


Saving Graces

by Dextrousleftie



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bigotry & Prejudice, Fluff, Gay Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:57:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 41,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5772175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dextrousleftie/pseuds/Dextrousleftie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a homophobe's life is turned upside down when he saved during a bank robbery by a gay cop...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"And all of these faggots are out on the streets, flaunting their sin for everybody to see! These queers really think they should have the right to get married like decent people? They are abominations, and the Bible says they should be stoned to death! They're just lucky that we don't do that nowadays, that they're free to corrupt people with their sickening lifestyles! They should all be locked up in mental health wards, rather than be allowed to live out in the world with the rest of us! Some good electro-shock therapy might cure those perverts once and for all! Anyway, all of you guys listening to me out there, I've gotta go. I'll see you again, same time tomorrow. This is Ricky Raynes, signing off for now. Stay strong, America!" 

Ricky Raynes pushed the button on the console in front of him, ending his daily broadcast. His producer gave him the 'thumbs up' gesture, and he grinned and nodded back. His was one of the most popular 'talk' programs at this AM radio station. They loved him around here. He pushed back his chair, leaving the studio. He wanted to get to the bank to cash his paycheck before it closed. He had to hurry if he wanted to do that.

Ricky considered himself to be a man with a mission. Using his radio show, he was waging a war on the perversions that were taking over America. The biggest of those were the Godless gays, whose warped lifestyles were dragging both them and those around them down to Hell. God would not forgive people who tolerated such sin; he was sure of that. His fire-and brimstone parents had taught him well. How many times had he heard his father rage against those 'degenerate perverts'? Ricky had learned hate with his mother's milk, and he worked every day to make his parents proud of him as he fought the good fight against sin and corruption. 

 

He screeched into the parking lot of the bank, hurriedly exiting his vehicle. He ran into the bank, knowing he only had about twenty minutes before it closed. He jigged impatiently in line, his eyes fixed on the teller. He was so focused about getting to the head of the line that he didn't notice anything going on around him, until a loud voice barked: "This is a hold-up! Everybody put your hands in the air!"

He froze, terror surging through him, unable to move. The black-clad man standing near the entrance swung the vicious-looking weapon he was carrying toward Ricky. '"I told you to put your hands up!' he yelled, his eyes narrowing. 

Ricky couldn't get his limbs to move. He felt like a man trapped in a terrible nightmare, as the muzzle of the weapon was trained on his pale-as-a-sheet face. He was going to die. He was going to die because he couldn't move. Oh, sweet Jesus, he didn't want to die!

"Freeze!" another voice barked from off to their left. The bank robber swung around toward it, and Ricky dimly saw another man with a gun who was training it on the first man. He'd been quietly moving toward the bank robber, but he'd given up his advantage to stop the bank robber from shooting the helpless Ricky. "Drop your weapon!" the second man said commandingly. "You're under arrest!"

A cop? But he wasn't wearing any kind of uniform...this distant thought filtered into Ricky's brain as the bank robber screamed in rage. Instead of dropping his weapon, he pointed it at the second armed man and pulled the trigger. At the same time, the second man shot the bank robber square in the chest, making him drop his gun and fall to the faux-marble floor. He lay there unmoving. Ricky couldn't believe how quickly it had all happened. And he was safe! The second man had shot the bank robber! They were all safe! He felt dizzy with relief as his muscles finally started to work again.

"Somebody call 911! Get an ambulance!" someone screamed.

Ricky's head snapped around. To his shock and horror, he saw that the bank robber wasn't the only one who'd been shot! The second man was slumping over, half-supported by another man, with blood leaking out from under his fingers where he was clutching at his side. Oh, God! He'd been shot saving Ricky's life! He'd never felt more horrible than he did right at that moment. If he hadn't frozen up like that, then the second man probably wouldn't have been shot. This was all his fault...

 

Later, after the police cars and the ambulance had come and gone, and reporters had stopped swarming the bank, Ricky drove to the hospital. All that he could think of was the fact that he'd gotten that man shot. He felt ashamed and horrified. Apparently he'd been right - the wounded man was an off-duty cop. He'd gotten a cop shot. Ricky felt like the lowest of the low as he pulled into the parking lot of the hospital that the ambulance had taken the wounded cop to. If that man was badly hurt, or he died...Ricky knew he'd never forgive himself. Never.

He hurried into the hospital and asked the nurse at the entrance desk about the wounded cop who'd been brought in earlier. She looked him over. "Are you family?" she asked him.

"No," he replied. "But he saved my life in the bank. I'd just like to know that he's going to be okay."

The anxiety in his voice seemed to move her a bit. "Well, it looks like he's in surgery," she said, consulting her computer. "You could call later and ask about his condition - I'm sure we'll have more details later."

"All right," he said reluctantly. 'But maybe...I could wait here instead? Could you let me know if he's going to be okay later?"

"It might be awhile," she pointed out.

Ricky nodded. "I know that. I don't care," he said.

"All right. I can at least let you know when he's out of surgery. Please have a seat," she shooed him away, and he went. He sat down in one of the hard plastic chairs in the waiting room and stared dully at a ten-year-old magazine, stewing in his guilt and shame. 

 

Sometime later, a had touched his shoulder. He raised his head, looking into the nurse's face. "Hey, I just wanted to let you know that the police officer is out of surgery," she told him. "I can't give you any more details on his condition, since you're not family."

"Thank you," he said. "That's enough to know. So he's going to live?"

"His condition is good," she replied. 

"Thank God," he slumped in the chair, relief making him want to ooze out of it. 

"You should go home, Sir. There's nothing more you can do here. You wouldn't be allowed to visit him anyway."

"O-Of course. Thank you," Ricky said again as he got to his feet. 

 

He went home, to sit on his couch blindly staring at the TV screen. What a horrible day! He'd proved that he was a total coward, and he'd gotten a cop shot trying to save him, all in the span of five minutes! This had been the worst day of his entire life, bar none. 

 

Ricky called in sick to work the next day. He just didn't feel up to going on the air today. Instead he went to the hospital, hoping to get more news about the cop. Any little snippet would help; he just wanted to know that the police officer would be all right. The man had saved his life, even though he didn't deserve it. When he asked the front desk nurse, she told him that the police officer was out of danger and had been moved out of intensive care already. Ricky felt nauseous with relief when she told him that. 

"Umm...I don't suppose that there's any way that I could see him?" he asked her hopefully. "He saved my life yesterday; I just want to thank him."

"I can understand that," she replied. '"And since he's not in intensive care anymore, if he approves of it you can go and see him during regular visiting hours."

"Oh, man. Would you ask him if I can see him later?" Ricky pleaded. 

"I'll call up to his room and ask him," she picked up the phone and made a call, and he tried not to be impatient as she spoke into it. "Officer Belmont? There's a man here at the front desk who says he was in the bank yesterday. He claims you saved his life, and that he'd like to visit you later to thank you. Can he?"

She listened, then nodded silently at Ricky. "All right, I'll tell him," she said. She hung up the phone as Ricky looked at her hopefully. "Officer Belmont says that it's fine if you want to visit him later," she told Ricky. "Evening visiting hours are from 5 to 7. It's Room 301."

"Thank you! I'll be back later!" he exclaimed, and she smiled at his enthusiasm.

 

Ricky went out and bought everything that he could think of for an invalid - balloons, fruit, chocolate, flowers, you name it. This wouldn't make up for what had happened, but he wanted to show his complete gratitude in as substantial a way as he could manage. Burdened with a large pile of things, he returned to the hospital at 5:30. He took the elevator to the third floor, finding Room 301. The door was open. He hesitated in the doorway, seeing a hospital bed with a man lying in it. "Hey," he said. "Umm..."

The man's head turned. "Hello," he said. "You're the guy from the bank, right?"

"Yeah," Ricky said. "Err...can I come in?"

"Sure," the cop replied, clicking off the television. "Nothing much on, anyway," he remarked dryly. 

Ricky stepped into the hospital room. He lifted the stuff in his hands. "Where shall I put this?"

The cop eyed the mound of gifts. "Did you buy out the gift shop?" he asked incredulously. 

"No. I bought these in a store...I just wanted to say that I'm sorry!" Ricky cried remorsefully.

The cop lifted his brows slightly. "Sorry? For what?" he asked.

"For you getting shot! It was all my fault!" Ricky said unhappily.

"How so?"

"Because if I hadn't frozen, you wouldn't have had to stop that bank robber from shooting me," Ricky replied miserably. 

The cop sighed, shaking his head. "You're a civilian. You were scared. It happens. It's not that I wanted to get shot, but I'm alive. And so are you, and everybody else in the bank. It all turned out for the best."

Ricky blinked, holding back tears. "But if I weren't such a coward..." He sighed. 

"Coward? Did you use a baby as a human shield? Yes, you froze. But it could happen to anybody in a dangerous situation that they haven't been trained to deal with," the cop said impatiently. "You're being too hard on yourself."

His brisk, no-nonsense words made Ricky feel a bit better. But only a bit. He went over to set the presents down on the side table, his fingers rearranging the bouquet of flowers. "I just never expected that to happen," he murmured. "I always thought that I'd be the strong one if something bad happened. Like my old man. He was in the Army. He has medals. And a son who freezes when somebody points a gun at him..."

"There could be worse things that his son could be," the cop remarked calmly. 

"Like what?" Ricky started to ask. But before he could finish the question, a small crowd of people entered the hospital room.

"James!" one of them cried. "Oh, my dear, how are you?! We've all been so worried!"

Ricky gaped at them. Though not all of them were as flamboyant as the speaker, who was wearing make-up and three-inch heels, every one of the men who had just entered the hospital room of his savior were clearly gay! 

 

A/N: This is an unfinished work posted from my personal website: http://dlsfanfiction.weebly.com/home.html, because the web builder site has become incredibly hard to use. I will be slowly but surely transferring all of my unfinished works from there to here, where I can actually work on them. There are also over a dozen finished works on the site as well, if anyone wants to go and read them. I'll be leaving the finished stuff only on the website instead of importing them here. Anyhoo, enjoy reading and have a great day! -Dextrousleftie


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky has a change of heart...

Ricky stood there, frozen, as the small swarm of gay men descended on the hospital bed. The man wearing make-up and heels grabbed the cop's hand. "James, don't scare us like that!" he cried chidingly. 

"Well, I'm sorry, Freddy, but it's not like I set out to get shot when I went to the bank yesterday," the cop remarked dryly.

"I know, I know; but I was just so scared!" the man called Freddy replied, squeezing his hand. 

"Hazards of the job," the cop remarked with a shrug. "There's always the possibility that I might be shot."

"But not when you're off-duty!" one of the other men protested. 

"The perp was going to shoot a civilian. I had to do something," the cop said patiently. 

"Always the hero," drawled a third man, although there was affectionate exasperation in his voice.

"No, just a cop doing his duty. That's all."

"Do you have to be so calm about getting shot?" a fourth man demanded rather irritably, from the shelter of a fifth man's arms. 

"What do you want? Do you want me to have hysterics every time that I take a bullet? I don't think that I'd get to keep my job for very long if I did that. Besides, I already take enough flack for being a gay cop. Can you imagine if I were a gay cop who wigged out every time he was in a dangerous situation? As an openly gay cop, I have to be a role model whether I like it or not."

Ricky's mouth fell open at these words, and his eyes bugged out of his head. His savior was...he couldn't be! No way! The man who'd saved his life and taken a bullet for him...was a fag?!

The man called Freddy sighed. "We know that, James," he said sadly. "But we're going to worry about you, you know that. That's what friends do."

"I appreciate that, Freddy. I'm really glad to have such good friends," the cop replied, looking at every one of the little crowd of gay men. 

Ricky was taken aback. The caring and affection being displayed by these men...gay men were abominations! How could they show so much love for one another? It just didn't seem possible. Warily he wondered if he could just scurry out before anyone saw him, but before he could try one of the men happened to glance over at the table and spotted Ricky. "Hey," he said. "Hello. Who's this? Do you have a new boyfriend, James?" he asked the cop hopefully.

"No. This is...I'm sorry, I didn't get your name earlier," the cop said, glancing over at him.

"R-Ricky. Ricky Raynes," he stuttered, cringing at all of the eyes staring at him. The curious, interested eyes. There was no animosity in their stares. 

"Ricky Raynes. He was the civilian that the perp was going to shoot in the bank. He came today to bring me some get-well gifts and make sure that I was all right," the cop explained to his friends.

"Why, how sweet!" one of the men said, smiling at Ricky. "Checking up on your hero! And you brought so much stuff," he added, looking at the gifts on the table behind Ricky. "I don't suppose that you're gay, are you?" he asked hopefully.

"No!" Ricky cried in horror. 

"Too bad," the man said. "But it's still nice that you came to see James. So many people just take it for granted that cops will protect them, and they're not grateful when somebody saves their lives. This is a nice change."

A murmur of agreement swept through the group. Ricky stood there, not knowing what to say or do, surrounded by 'the enemy'. His breathing picked up and his stomach clenched in knots. He'd never been face-to-face with so many gay men before. But none of them were making any threatening moves, and most of them were smiling at him...confusion rushed through him. 

His state of bewilderment was broken into when the cop said: "Ricky Raynes, I'd like you to meet my friends. This is Freddy, Nathan, Daniel, Peter, Mark, and Colin." he pointed to each of the men as he named them, and they greeted Ricky with smiles or nods or "Hellos." 

"Hi," he choked out in return. All he wanted was to get the hell out of this hospital room. He couldn't think. He needed to think. 

"You seem kind of nervous, Ricky. Are you okay?" the guy named Peter asked in concern. 

"Y-Yeah," he said hurriedly. "I just...I've just got to get going," he went on quickly. He began to edge toward the door, watching all of them warily out of the corner of his eye. 

"Oh? That's too bad. It was nice to meet you, Ricky," another of them, Nathan, said.

"Yeah, sure. Uh, bye," he said, waving a hand at them all wildly, before he bolted out of the hospital room like someone had set his heels on fire.

The men gathered in the room watched Ricky scurry out. "What was that all about?" Freddy remarked, sounding puzzled. "James?"

"Don't look at me," the cop remarked with another shrug. "He was fine until you guys arrived. He was kind of upset because he felt like he'd been a coward in the bank, and that's why I got shot..."

"What do you mean?" Colin asked. 

"Well, he froze when the perp told him to put his hands up. He looked like he might shoot Ricky when he couldn't move, so I had to act quickly. He felt like that made him a coward, that he couldn't move. I pointed out to him that it could happen to anybody who wasn't trained to handle dangerous situations, which is true. Other than that, he seemed all right until you guys barged in here. Maybe you scared him off," he added with a slight smile.

Freddy giggled as the others laughed. "Yes, we big bad gays scared the pants off of him," he chuckled merrily. "Or rather, we might have tried to if given enough time. He was kind of cute, don't you think?" he went on.

Several nods answered his question. "Definitely," Peter remarked. "Too bad he wasn't gay. Maybe that's what scared him. The typical straight guy's uneasiness around gay guys. Especially a pack of them."

"That could be it," James agreed. "You guys are pretty overwhelming when you're all together."

"The fabulousness was just too much for him to take," Freddy commented with a grin. 

 

 

Ricky didn't remember driving home. He sat in his car in his driveway, breathing heavily while his fingers tightened on the steering wheel hard enough to leave dents in the plastic covering. His brain was gibbering inside his head. The cop. The cop that had saved his miserable, cowardly life, was gay. A gay man had saved him, was more courageous than he was! Oh, God! How was that possible? How could he ever tell his father about this? Bad enough that he'd frozen and almost gotten shot because of it, but then a gay man had had to save him? His father was sure to have a screaming fit. He might even disown Ricky. His pussy of a son being saved by a pansy. Shit.   
He laid his forehead against the steering wheel, a sob clenched between his tightly-closed teeth. Why was this happening to him? Did God hate him or something? Was he being punished for some terrible sin? If so, what? He just didn't have a clue. 

He could lie. It would be a sin, but a minor one. He wouldn't tell his parents what had really happened at the bank. This resolution made him feel a bit better, and he got out of his car and went into his house to make himself some dinner. 

 

Later, he sat in front of the TV and watched the evening news. The polished talking head was saying: 'Following up on a news story of an attempted bank robbery yesterday, News 10 has learned that the Officer who shot the bank robber and saved the lives of at least a dozen people, including radio talk show host Ragin' Ricky Raynes, is an openly gay man. James Belmont is an eight-year veteran, and has earned several commendations for bravery before this. He did an interview a few years ago in which he stated that he was proud to be a gay man, and proud to serve the people of this city as a police officer. And this city is proud of Officer Belmont, and hope that there are many more like him on our police force serving and protecting us."

Ricky sat there, stunned, feeling a sick horror creeping up on him. There was no way that his parents had not seen this newscast; they always watched the evening news together before they went to bed. They'd know. He couldn't lie now. Oh, sweet Jesus, he was so screwed...

 

Ricky tossed and turned the entire night, his thoughts troubled and confused. It wasn't just the inevitable confrontation with his father that was weighing on him. He kept thinking about his radio show. Of the things he said on the air about gay people. He'd spent his entire career on the radio giving nothing but hate, and in return a gay man had saved his life. Guilt lay on him heavier than the duvet covering him. It was only now occurring to him that Jesus had said that you should love your fellow man; that he hadn't specified WHICH fellow man that you had to love, either. It was all of them. You couldn't pick or choose as a Christian who you should and shouldn't love. 

He threw an arm over his eyes and groaned. Of course this had never occurred to him before; his father didn't love anybody! Not even his own wife and son. He'd seen his unloving parent spew hate over everyone ever since he'd been a small child, and to get even a bit of approval from the hateful old man he'd picked the group that his father hated the most - the gays - as his own enemies as well. Belatedly he questioned what God might have to say about his hateful ways, and those of his father. Had he condemned his very soul to an eternity in Hell? Hate the sin, not the sinner. He'd broken that admonition every day of his life so far. 

 

Ricky was weary and bleary-eyed when he staggered into work the next day. He waved feebly at his technician, then sat down in his chair. When he saw the On Air light come on, he leaned forward and spoke slowly into the microphone. "Hey, all my listeners out there. This is Ricky Raynes speaking. Many of you might be aware that I was in a bank robbery a couple of days ago. Let's just say that the experience changed me. I...have done some soul searching, and have come to some conclusions. All of the stuff I've been saying about the gays...I'm not sure how much of it is true anymore. And I can't in good conscience come on the air every day and say those things if I'm not sure that they're right. I've got lots of thinking to do. I've enjoyed all the time that I've spent here, but I think it's time for a change. That's why I came on today to say...I'm quitting my show. I don't know where I'll go or where I'll end up, but this is something that I have to do for myself. So, goodbye everybody. This is Ricky Raynes, signing off for the last time," and he flicked the switch to take himself off the air, as his technician gaped at him in total shock.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James begins to help Ricky overcome his hompohobia

Ricky steeled himself for the inevitable confrontation with the station manager over his announcement. "Ricky!" the older man cried in agitation. "What is this about? Are you quitting?!"

"Yeah, I am, Walter," Ricky said. "I'm sorry, but I can't do this show anymore. I...I'm really confused right now. I have a lot of stuff to think about. So much has happened in the past few days..."

Walter Dobchick frowned at him. "What's happened? Is this about the bank robbery?"

"In a way," Ricky said, looking down at his hands. He was sitting in the station manager's office, feeling like a school boy being chided by the principal. Still, Walter had a right to be upset. Ricky's given him no notice that he was thinking about quitting his show. "I...during that bank robbery, I was almost shot by the robber. The off-duty cop who saved me...he's gay, Walter. He saved my life, took a bullet for me...and he's gay."

"Oh," Walter said, sudden understanding in his voice. "I guess I can see why you wouldn't want to go on the air and say horrible things about gay people anymore, not after that. I just wish that you'd come to me or called me before you went on the air and told them you were quitting your show."

"I'm really sorry," Ricky said contritely. "I know I've put you in a bind, and I have a contract..." 

Walter waved that away. "If you can't do the show anymore, what good is a contract? I'm not going to force you to go on the air and be a bigot if you don't want to anymore. Actually," he shrugged, "If I'm going to be honest, I'm just as glad that you're quitting."

Ricky gaped at him. "You are?!"

Walter sighed. "Yes. I had to put up with your show because it gets such good ratings, but the truth is that I hate it. I hate the fact that we have a homophobe ranting over our airways day after day. It gives our station a bad name. And it makes me uncomfortable when people ask me how I can let that filth be played on my station. But I had no choice in the matter, because the advertisers were happy about the numbers you were pulling in. Sometimes being a manager really sucks," he added glumly.

"Oh," Ricky was taken aback. "You really didn't like my show?"

"I hated it," Walter replied bluntly. "It's always been awful and ugly. I can't even listen to it. It makes me cringe. I never told you this, Ricky, because I didn't want to upset you - but my brother is gay. And I happen to love and support my brother and his partner. Having to run your program on my station - I felt like a traitor to him. He's always understood, but I'll be so happy to tell him that you're not on anymore..."

Ricky squirmed in his chair. "I'm sorry, Walter," he said. "I still don't know how I feel about gays," he added apologetically.

"Of course you don't. It takes time to change, even your mind. Maybe ESPECIALLY your mind. But I think that quitting your show is a step in the right direction," Walter said approvingly.

"What'll you do...about my time slot?"

Walter sighed. "If I'd had some notice," he began chidingly. Ricky flinched. "I could have started looking for somebody to replace you. Still, I think I'll put that auto repair show on in your time slot for now. They're pretty popular. And if they do well, I'll keep them there and fill their slot with somebody else. What will YOU do now, Ricky?" he asked in concern.

"I don't know," he said helplessly. "But I thought I might look for work as a regular d.j. That's what I studied to be in college."

Walter nodded. "I'll write you a letter of recommendation," he said.

Ricky's mouth dropped open. "You'd DO that?! After I quit on you so suddenly?!" 

Walter shrugged. "It's not the ideal situation, but I don't want to punish you by giving you a bad recommendation and maybe destroying your chances to get any other jobs in radio."

"Oh, man. Walter, thank you so much," Ricky said fervently, jumping up to shake the station manager's hand across the desk. "I can never repay you for this."

Walter smiled slightly. "Yes, you can. Go out and make something of yourself, Ricky," he said, and he had the odd feeling that Walter wasn't talking about his career in radio...

 

Ricky left the radio station for the last time, feeling both free and more than a touch scared. What if he couldn't find another job? He had some savings, but who knew how long they'd last him? Still, he knew with certainty that he simply couldn't have gone on the air and talked like he normally did, saying all of those hateful things about gays. Not until he decided how he really felt about them now, or thought about them. He wasn't ready to march in a gay pride parade, or advocate for gay marriage, or anything like that. All he knew was that he felt ashamed to go on the air and say nasty things about gay people after his very life had been saved by one. 

His heart sank when he got home and saw a familiar battered pick-up truck sitting in his driveway. He gulped, thinking that maybe he should just drive on and find someplace to hide. But he had to face his father eventually - it was inevitable. So he gathered his courage and parked his car next to the truck, getting out to face the grizzled, scowling older man standing next to it. 

"Hi, Dad," he said thinly.

"Don't you 'hi, Dad' me, boy," Roger Raynes spat. "What the fuck is this I hear about some faggot saving your pussy life?"

"It's true, Dad. I was in my bank when a guy came in to rob it. He would have shot me if an off-duty cop hadn't pulled down on him. And that cop happens to be gay." he lifted his chin as his father's black scowl deepened.

"You should have just taken the bullet," he hissed. "No son of mine needs to be saved by some queer!"

"First of all, I didn't know he was gay at the time," Ricky snapped. "Second, I really like being alive so I guess I don't care whether he's gay or not."

"Don't you talk back to me, Ricky," his father said menacingly, stepping toward him. 

He cringed, but stood his ground. "It's true," he said, even as his insides clenched in pure fear. "I don't care that he's gay. He saved my life, Dad. He's a hero."

"You turning into a queer, too, Ricky?" there was a snake-like quality to Roger Raynes' flat stare. "Defending one of them sick bastards? You gonna be bending over so that one of those fags can stick his pecker up where the sun don't shine?"

"No! I'm not a queer! But he DID save my life!" Ricky cried doggedly, trying not to take a step back. 

Roger Raynes snarled and caught him by the front of the t-shirt he was wearing. "You listen to me, boy. I don't ever want to hear you call one of them sick homos a 'hero' again, you hearing me? Are you?!" and he shook Ricky like a rag-doll.

"Yes! I hear you!" Ricky fought not to let his voice climb into a shrill screech, terror washing over him. 

Roger released his shirt. "Good. Cause I would be VERY displeased, Ricky. I'm not sure what I might do," the casual threat of violence, combined with his hard, ugly stare, made Ricky wonder distantly if his bowels might give way at any moment. 

Roger straightened up and shrugged. "Your momma told me to tell you to come to dinner next week," he said, as though he hadn't just threatened his own son.

"Sure. I'll come," Ricky said thinly, trying not to let the way his limbs were shaking show. 

Roger Raynes nodded. "Why are you home so early, anyway? Shouldn't you be doin' your show right now?" he asked.

Ricky felt terror surge up in him again, but that state of panic also brought with it a surprisingly sharp clarity. "The station manager gave me a week off," he lied, so smoothly that it took him by surprise. "To recover."

Roger Raynes snorted derisively. "Pussy. A guy pointed a gun at you. Big deal. Well, I'll get goin'. I've gotta go over to the gun range and meet Ned."

Ricky nodded, knowing that his father was speaking of his weekly target practice shooting sessions with his friend Ned Westermeier, during which time both men drank way too much beer and ended up half-sloshed before target practice was over. Needless to say, everybody else at the gun club cleared out when Ned and Roger appeared. 

His father got into his truck and roared away, not bothering to wave or look at Ricky. He stood next to his car, frozen in place, shuddering with relief and a release of fear. Fortunately, his father seldom if ever listened to his show, so he wouldn't know that Ricky was off the air anytime soon. That was one consolation, at least. And...he's sort of stood up to his father. Maybe not as much as he should have, but his father was such a violent man that Ricky didn't know what he might do if he ever truly defied him. His father had a drinking problem, lots of rage, and an entire arsenal of guns. Bad combination...

He scrubbed at his face with his hands, wearily. This had been SUCH a long week! His whole world was being turned upside down, and he felt dizzy and confused. There was only one thing to do when he felt this out-of-sorts...he was going to take a nap. A long, LONG nap!

 

He woke up many hours later, feeling much better. He wandered muzzily into his kitchen, seeing that it was after five. Ricky paused in the doorway, thinking hard. It was visiting hours at the hospital, and for some reason he really wanted to go and talk to James Belmont. He wasn't sure why, he just did. Maybe it was because the cop seemed so calm, so together. He might just be able to give Ricky some advice or something. If he was going to start thinking about gay people in a different way, shouldn't he hang around one? And maybe hanging around one would help clarify for him whether he even wanted to think about them in a different way. Maybe James Belmont would turn out to be a horrible person after all, a typical fag. Then Ricky could go back to his old ways without a qualm, right? 

That sounded good. He'd go to the hospital and talk to James Belmont. Ricky went to pull on a light jacket, working hard to ignore the feeling of anticipation coursing through him at the thought of seeing the cop again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky's coming along...

Ricky knocked hesitantly at the doorframe of the hospital room, hovering in the doorway. When the man lying in the bed turned his head to look at him, he tried a rather tremulous smile. "Hi," he said, feeling horribly awkward. "I...umm...came to see you again," he added unnecessarily. "Is that okay?"

"Sure," the cop replied. "It's Ricky, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he said, stepping into the room. 

"What brings you here again?" James Belmont asked curiously, studying his face. 

He squirmed a bit. "Oh. It's just that I...I really need somebody to talk to, and you're the only one that I CAN talk to about this," he explained.

James Belmont cocked his head a little. "Why only me?"

"Because...because...you're gay!" he cried loudly, then turned a bit red and looked around wildly. 

The cop's brows drew together a bit. "Why don't you sit down here and explain that to me?" he said, pointing to a chair next to his bed. "Now I'm curious."

Ricky hurriedly plopped down in the chair, wriggling a bit in nervous tension as he tried to figure out how to start this conversation. "It's like this," he began at last. "I'm...I mean I was...a radio talk show host up until today. I quit my show today," he said, pulling at the front of his t-shirt with his fingers.

James frowned slightly. "Why?" 

Ricky sighed. "Because of you," he said.

A blink. "Me? I still don't get it."

He tensed in the chair, getting ready to confess. "It's because you saved my life in the bank. And because you're gay. I heard you talking to your friends about it last night, and I felt really guilty..."

"Why would you feel guilty about me being gay? I don't understand," James said, his puzzled frown deepening. 

"Because my show is...was...mostly a rant against gay people," Ricky said through his clenched teeth. "My Daddy, he taught me to hate people like you. That you were abominations, and sinners, and maybe evil...that you're causing the decay of a moral society with your perverted lifestyles. I've always believed what he said, and I've tried hard to fight against you. But when you saved me in the bank, and you were way more brave than I was, and I realized that you're gay...I don't know. I guess I realized that maybe some of the stuff that Daddy always said about you were wrong. Maybe more than some of it," he added, lifting his shoulders defensively. "So I quit. I can't go on the air and say that stuff, not until I know whether or not any of it is true. And that's why I came to see you. Because you're gay, and maybe you could help me figure it out...you don't have to, I'll understand if you don't want to, not after all of the things I've said about gay people on the air..."

"Let me get this straight," James Belmont said thoughtfully, studying his face again. "You're a homophobe, and up until today you had one of those hate talk shows that you hear on AM radio all the time. In fact, you're Ragin' Ricky Raynes."

He jumped, his mouth falling open. "H-How?" 

James Belmont shrugged. "I've caught parts of your show a couple of time," he said flatly. "Although I didn't recognize your name or your voice until you told me about your show just now. I like to keep an eye out on homophobes, because they can be very dangerous people. Even if they don't do anything themselves, they encourage others to attack or bully gay people. What you say has consequences, Ricky," he said, his voice tinged with anger.

He flinched, pulling his chin down until it nearly rested on his chest. "I know that. And I'm sorry. But there's nothing I can do to change anything..." he said helplessly.

"Actually, you did the only thing that you could do when you quit your show today," James Belmont said, surprising him. "You can't change the past, but you can always change the present. But why did you come to see me about this? Do you want forgiveness or absolution?"

He shook his head. "No," he replied. "I guess I'm just hoping that if I talk to you, maybe get to know you or something, I might figure out some things."

"About gay people," James Belmont clarified.

He nodded again. The cop shook his head a bit. "Ricky, you can't just go by me. I'm only one person, not a representation of the whole."

"I know that," he said quickly. "But I wanted to try. And I didn't know where else to start. It's not like I know any gay people myself," he added ruefully.

"That doesn't shock me," James replied dryly. "All right, Ricky. What is it that you want, exactly? To hang out with me? Maybe become best friends?"

He flinched again. "No. I just want to talk to you. If that's too much, I'll go..." he started to get to his feet, but James Belmont waved him back down. 

"Okay. I've got nothing much to do for the next few weeks while I'm on leave. And I'm willing to put in the effort to maybe reform a homophobe, because there are way too many of them in the world. One less would be a coupe for our side," his steady eyes met Ricky's. "If you don't mind hanging out with a gay guy," he went on dryly.

"No! I want to," Ricky said eagerly. He turned a bit red and looked away, not meeting those eyes.

The cop's voice was faintly amused. "All right, then. You can come and see me every night until they let me go, and after that we'll make plans. If you can stand a whole pack of gay guys, I'm having a backyard barbeque for my friends, family, and colleagues in a couple of weeks. I should be fine by then, so I'm not canceling it. You could come and meet some of my friends - a few of them were here last night. I promise none of them will try to eat you, especially when I explain that you're not gay and they shouldn't hit on you."

"Okay," Ricky said uncertainly. He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about being around a lot of gay guys at once, but he was trying to change so he wasn't going to reject the idea outright. 

"What will you do now?" James asked, making him blink.

"What?"

"You said you quit your show today," the cop said patiently. "Unless you have another job lined up..."

"No," he said ruefully. "I went to work to go on the air, but I couldn't do it so I quit. I wasn't thinking about getting another job or anything."

A crooked smile lifted one corner of James' mouth. "An impulsive gesture, then. That's a great thing to do, but it won't help your bank account."

"No," he agreed glumly. "I'm hoping that I can get another job in radio. My former boss said that he'd write me a good reference, even though I quit on him all of a sudden. He's really nice," he went on.

"He sounds like it. You're lucky. What kind of work will you look for?"

"I'd like to get a job as a DJ. I went to college for that, and I would have ended up as one if I hadn't sort of fallen into doing my talk show. With a reference from my boss, I might be able to get a job as a DJ. Here's hoping."

"It's always good to get into something that you like doing," James noted.

"Do you like...being a cop? Even though you got shot?" Ricky asked him.

"Yes, I do. I know I might get shot, and even killed, but that's just one of the hazards of the job. You accept it going in. And this..." he reached down to hover his fingers over his side, 'Wasn't bad. Don't get me wrong, I'd have preferred not to be shot at all, but if it was going to be anything I'll take a minor wound that doesn't put me in the ground or on permanent disability."

"But aren't you scared?!" Ricky blurted, thinking about how he'd frozen in terror in the bank.

"Yes, of course. Only an idiot wouldn't be scared in a dangerous situation. But you learn to divorce yourself from your fear and sort of set it a step aside while you deal with whatever the danger is. There's usually time later to give into the fear, after it's all over."

"I wish I could have done that," Ricky sighed sadly. "My daddy," he tensed, looking away. "Was so angry when he found out that you'd saved me. He said..." he stopped talking for a moment, his throat threatening to close up, "That he'd rather that I'd have taken the bullet, than have a gay guy save me."

Shocked silence. He glanced up sideways at the cop's face, seeing a deep anger in James' eyes. "Your own father told you that he'd rather you were dead than that you were saved by a gay man?" he said incredulously. 

"Yeah," Ricky sniffled, looking down at the hands twining together in his lap.

"Well, that explains a lot," James noted. "About why you are the way you are. That's frankly disgusting, Ricky. Your father must be a really horrible man."

He stiffened, but sighed as well. "He is," Ricky said in a small voice. "I'm s-scared of him."

"Sounds like you have every right to be," James replied calmly. "I can't imagine being raised by someone like that. I've got to say, if you're worried that you're cowardly then your actions today should put any of your fears to rest."

He looked up, his brows knitting in confusion. "What?"

The cop tilted his head a little. "Your father terrifies you, and he taught you to hate and fear gays. Yet you quit your hate-spewing talk show even though you have to know that that's probably going to upset him, all because you acknowledge that what he taught you might be wrong. That sounds like courage to me."

Stunned, Ricky just stared at him. He'd never really thought about it that way. He'd quit on impulse simply because he couldn't sit in that studio and say all of those things about gay people anymore, not when a gay cop had saved his very life. He hadn't even been thinking about his father when he'd done it. But if he ever found out that Ricky had quit his show, and WHY...he shuddered, terror lashing through him. He hugged himself, rocking a little.   
"It's all right, Ricky," James' voice said, and he jumped as a hand settled on his knee lightly. "You've taken the first step. Don't be afraid to go the rest of the way."

He looked up into the cop's reassuring gaze, and felt some of his fear ebb away. "I'll try," he half-whispered.

"That's all that anybody can ask for," James replied quietly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky gets a new job and a new friendship as well.

Ricky sat on a chair and tried not to twitch with nervousness. He was waiting for an interview with the station manager of an FM radio station, a station that mostly played music. They were looking for an afternoon DJ, and he was hoping he might be able to get the job. He'd swung by his old station and had gotten Walter to write him a reference before coming to this interview. 

His fingers felt sweaty around his resume and the reference. He'd never thought that his show might become an albatross around his neck, but now that he was trying to get another job in radio that DIDN'T involve him going on the air and spouting hatred for gays, he could see clearly that he'd be lucky if anyone wanted to hire him. Still, you never knew until you tried. 

He thought about the time he'd spent with James Belmont in his hospital room last night. The cop was such an amazing person; calm, thoughtful, intelligent. He hadn't gotten angry at Ricky even when he'd realized who he was, and he'd been willing to talk to him patiently. He knew he didn't deserve that much consideration from a gay man. But he really appreciated it, because he was already so confused and anxious and uncertain. James Belmont had the right to yell at him, to revile him, but he was really grateful that he hadn't. 

"Mr. Raynes?" a man had appeared in the doorway of the office. 

"Yes," he rose to his feet. 

The man held out his hand. "I'm the station manager, Juan Cabrera. Won't you come inside?"

"Thank you," he said, suppressing an instinctual lance of racist dislike. His father was always saying that 'wetbacks' were stealing the jobs right out from under the white man. He walked into the office, and the manager waved him to a chair in front of his desk. 

"Have a seat," the manager said, sitting down in his own chair behind the desk.

He sat down in the chair, and held out his resume and the reference. Juan Cabrera leaned forward to take them from him. "You have a lot of experience in radio?" he asked, beginning to read the resume over. 

"Yes. I had a talk show before this, and I have two degrees - one in broadcasting, and the other in journalism. I've always wanted to be a DJ, but I sort of fell into the job as the host of a talk show."

"Why did you leave your last job?" Juan Cabrera asked, glancing briefly up at him. 

Here was where it became tricky. Ricky felt sweat break out on his forehead. But if he lied now, and Mr. Cabrera ever found out the truth, he'd be sure to fire Ricky on the spot. He decided to be brutally honest. "Umm, the thing is...my talk show was all about how much I hated gays. I sometimes talked about how I hated other kinds of people, too, but it was mostly gays. I'd say things like they were abominations, and that they were lucky normal people let them live, let alone get married...lots of things like that. The show was pretty popular," he said unhappily. 

The station manager lowered the reference and stared at him. "If it was popular, then why did you leave your show?" he asked in a neutral tone of voice. 

Ricky squirmed in his chair, his eyes falling. "Last week there was a robbery at my bank," he began. "The robber pointed a gun at me and told me to put my hands up. But I couldn't do it - I froze. I was so scared that I was going to die. But an off-duty cop was in the bank too, and he shot the robber before the robber could shoot me. The cop also got shot in the process, and I felt terrible about it. He'd gotten shot because of me. I found out the next day that the policeman is gay. He saved my life, he got shot for me, and he's gay. When I realized that, I quit my show because I simply couldn't go on the air anymore and say all of that stuff about gays. It would be wrong. My station manager understood, that's why he wrote me the reference," he indicated the paper in Juan Cabrera's hand. 

"I see. So you had an epiphany," the station manager said slowly.

"I guess you could say that. All I know is that I couldn't say those kinds of things anymore, not after that. Listen, I know that you might not want to hire me because of what my show was about, but I can promise you that I'll never say anything inappropriate on the air ever again. I swear. I just want a chance to start fresh, even if I don't deserve it. Please at least consider me for the job because of my qualifications, even if you decide not to hire me."

Juan Cabrera studied his face. "Your honesty is refreshing," he said thoughtfully. "And you do have good qualifications, I'll admit. All right. Why don't you come into one of our studios and give us an audition? I want to hear what you'd sound like on the air before I make any decisions."

Ricky nodded, feeling hope spring up inside of him. They left the office and went to an empty studio, where the tech set up some recording equipment so that they could make a tape of Ricky doing an audition. Juan Cabrera handed him a piece of paper. 

"Here's a list of the news I'd like you to read," he told Ricky. “And the song that will come on after your intro. Use your imagination and let us see what you've got."

"Okay," he said, sitting down in the chair and pulling the microphone a little closer to his mouth. He looked at the paper, trying to concentrate and give it his very best. 

"Hey, everybody, this is Rockin' Ricky Raynes coming to you on KFPX, the station that plays the best music all the time, every time." he began smoothly, remembering his days as the college radio station's DJ. "Today in the news, Israeli and Palestinian peace talks broke down once again. There was an accident between a ferry and an oil tanker off the coast of Indonesia, resulting in the deaths of over a dozen people. A nasty storm is lashing the East Coast, and New York has gotten over eight inches of rain already. People have been evacuated from their homes due to heavy flooding. The Federal Reserve Bank has announced that interest rates will remain low in the new year. There's a shocker, eh? And that's all the news for this hour. Now let's hear a song from Beyonce's latest album," he hit the switch to turn on the music, which began to play.

He looked up at Juan Cabrera, who was standing there watching him. The station manager nodded. "You're very professional, Mr. Raynes," he commented. 

"Thanks. I was a DJ at my college's radio station," Ricky replied. "I guess it's like riding a bicycle."

"Not if you don't have a talent for it," Juan Cabrera said. "But you do. You've definitely got a voice that's suited for the radio. All right - I'll give you a week's trial run as a stand-in DJ. If you can prove that you can be totally professional all the time, and there are no slip-ups, then I'll consider hiring you on as our afternoon DJ. We'll see how it goes."

Ricky felt exultation and anxiety race through him at the same time. He didn't have the job quite yet - he still had to prove himself - but he knew he could do it! "Thank you for giving me this opportunity, Mr. Cabrera," he said humbly.

The station manager smiled slightly. "I wouldn't have done so if I hadn't thought that you'd be good for the job," he replied. "But I have to admit that I'm impressed. Come in tomorrow at eleven o'clock for the first shift of your trial run."

'"I will. I won't be late," Ricky vowed. "And thank you again, Mr. Cabrera. I won't let you down, I swear."

"We'll see," the station manager replied. "Starting tomorrow."

 

 

Ricky burst into James Belmont’s hospital room, a huge smile on his face. The cop lifted a single brow when he saw Ricky’s expression. "Good day, I take it?" he asked.

"Yeah! I might have a job!" he said happily. 

"Might?" James repeated curiously. 

Ricky threw himself down in a chair and told him all about the interview and the audition. "Huh. Sounds like you might have a job," he agreed when Ricky was done. "If you can be careful about what you say on the air."

"I will be," Ricky said fervently. "I'll think about every word out of my mouth before I say it. I won't blow this opportunity. I can actually be a real DJ! That’s all I ever wanted to do. That’s what I went to college for."

"Lots of good news today, then," James remarked. 

"What do you mean?" Ricky asked.

"I'm being released tomorrow. It'll be nice to get out of here," the cop said, glancing around the hospital room. 

"Oh, that's great news!" Ricky cried. "But..."

James' lips lifted slightly. "I told you that you could come and hang out with me for however long it took," he said. "I never said WHERE. If you want to come over to my house tomorrow evening, we can talk again."   
Relieved, he nodded. "Thanks. I know that it can't be your favorite thing, hanging around with a guy like me..." he began self-deprecatingly. 

James shrugged a little. "I've done worse things. You're not a bad guy, Ricky. As homophobes go, you're actually one of the nicer ones that I've met. I believe that you have the potential to become a better man, and if I can help in the process I'm willing to put in the time."

"But what if I don't become a better man?" Ricky asked uncertainly.

"That’s your choice. I might be a little unhappy that you chose wrong, but it's still up to you. I can live with it if you go back to your old ways, but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try to wean you away from them for good."

Ricky fiddled with the collar of his shirt a little. "I've never met anybody quite like you before," he began slowly. "I mean, you're really..." he searched for the right word. "Honorable," he finally said. 

"I try to be. In the Middle Ages, all a knight had was his honor. I like to think that I might be a little bit of a knight as a cop, protecting people and doing good for the city. Kind of a silly fantasy, eh?"

"No, it makes sense to me," Ricky replied. "I mean, I always thought of myself as a virtuous guy on a crusade when I did my show. Now THAT was a fantasy," he added ruefully. "All I did was spread hate every time I opened my mouth. Just like my father."

"You don't have to be just like him anymore, Ricky," James told him soberly. "You can be anybody that you want to be."

" I know that," he replied equally as seriously. "I just have to decide who that is."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky has dinner with his parents, and we begin to see what he's up against as he works to change himself .

"Well, folks, this is Rockin' Ricky Raynes, signing off for today. Hope everybody has a nice drive home," he pushed the microphone away from his face, as the tech gave him a silent 'thumb's up' sign. Ricky felt a shiver of delight go through him. His first show as a real DJ was done, and he'd killed it! He'd been funny, full of energy, completely on. He still felt a bit twitchy as he stood up and left the booth, where the station manager was waiting for him.

"That was a good show, Mr. Raynes," the manager remarked. "I'm impressed. If you continue like this, I'll be happy to make you a permanent member of our team."

"Thank you, Mr. Cabrera. I really appreciate you giving me this chance," Ricky said fervently. 

A nod. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Raynes. Have a good night."

"I will. And you too," Ricky said, before he left the radio station. Much as he didn't want to go, he had a dinner date with his parents. He didn't dare not go, because his father would come to see him again to express his unhappiness with Ricky. ` He shuddered as he remembered incidents from the past where his father had expressed his unhappiness with him, and he definitely didn't want a repeat. 

 

Twenty minutes later he pulled into the driveway of his parents' home. His mouth felt dry, and his nerves were on edge as he went up the walk. He knocked on the door, and it was opened by his mother. "Ricky," she said with a wan smile. "Come on in."

"Hey, Mom," he said, entering the door. "I've come to dinner. Dad said you wanted me to come."

"Sure. I just wanted to make sure that you're all right after that bank robbery," she said, looking him up and down. 

"I am," Ricky told her. 

She nodded, then led the way into the kitchen. Under the unflattering kitchen light, the lines in Sarah Raynes' face showed up starkly. Her graying hair was pulled back severely from her face, and she wore a faded flower-print blouse and a denim skirt. Her dead eyes never quite met his as she moved around the kitchen, finishing dinner. "Your dad will be home soon," she said. "He's out with friends."

Out drinking, of course. Roger tended to come home drunk more often than he did sober. Which never stopped him from driving, of course...why he hadn't killed anybody yet, Ricky didn't know. The man just had the luck of the Devil. "Sit down there, Ricky, while I finish dinner," his mother said, pointing at a stool.

He sat obediently, knowing better than to offer to help her cook dinner. That was a woman's job, even though he'd tried protesting in the past that he cooked for himself now that he lived alone. She'd simply say that he needed to find some nice girl and settle down, so that he didn't have to cook or clean for himself anymore. And he had no argument against that, because he'd always wanted to find some nice girl and settle down into cozy domesticity. So far, though, none of his relationships had ever worked out. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was his father's genes in him? Maybe some of Roger's hateful poison had settled into his veins, and girls could somehow see that? Or maybe meeting their future father-in-law is what drove them away, because they were afraid that Ricky would ultimately become his father? 

He steeled himself for the inevitable question that his mother asked him every time he came to visit his parents. "Are you seeing anyone, Ricky?"   
"Uh, no, Mom, not right now," he said apologetically. 

She gave him a chiding look as she stirred the pot on the stove top. "You need to find a nice girl and settle down, Ricky," she said, just as she did every time.

"I know, Mom. I just haven't met the right person yet," he replied, just as HE did every time. 

She sighed, turning back to her pot. Ricky felt guilty. He knew that his mother wanted a daughter-in-law to talk to and maybe even become friends with. Also, she longed for grandkids. Grandkids would be better than children, because they'd be raised away from her husband where Roger couldn't abuse them. She could love them without being afraid of what her husband was going to do to them. Ricky knew that, and he'd always wanted to give that to her. He worried often about what kind of father he'd be, after being raised by Roger Raynes. But he still wanted kids. He just had to find the right woman, if she even existed...

A bang, a crash, and Roger stormed into the kitchen with a black scowl on his face. "Boy, you parked your damn car in my space!" he barked. "Go and move it right now!"

He jumped up as though he'd been stung. "Yes, Dad," he said meekly, scurrying out to move his car. If he'd hesitated at all, his father would have helped him along with a boot to his ass. And Roger had steel-toed boots, literally. He'd had more than one bruised tailbone from contact with those nasty boots. 

He sat at the table later and tried not to choke on his food. The tension in the air was palpable, because Roger was half-drunk and in a bad mood. He was glaring alternately at his wife and son, while shoving beef stroganoff into his face and chewing ferociously. His wife stared down at her plate, saying nothing, and Ricky tried to do the same. He jumped when his father's fist came crashing down on the tabletop. "Hey, Ricky! What the fuck happened to your show?!" he demanded. "I turned on your channel today, and they had some asshole talking about cars on instead!"

He'd thought long and hard on how to answer this question, and now he spoke the lie he'd invented quickly. "I got fired! My station got too many complaints about what I was talking about," he babbled, and they were forced to fire me. But I've already gotten another job, Dad. I'm a DJ at a music radio station. And I'm making more money than I did at my old job."  
His father scowled at him. "So those commie bastards canned you for telling the truth?!" he spat. "I'd like to show them just how I feel about their PC crap."

Ricky felt a chill go through him at the thought of his father confronting his former station manager. "Well ,they had no choice, Dad," he replied hurriedly. "They wanted to keep me on the air, but the people who own the station wouldn't let them."

That set his father off on a long rant about 'the powers that be', making him relax a little. He'd heard many such rants before this, and all of them had been general. His father never did anything about people he hated generally, only those he'd taken a personal hate-on to. The knot in his throat and stomach eased a little bit, since he'd gotten away with his lie about being fired. He wasn't always the world's best liar, but he'd had to learn to be around his father because the consequences of the truth could be so disastrous. 

He was happy to get away as quickly as he could afterward, kissing his mother on her cheek as he went out the door. His father didn't even bother to say goodbye, because he was sitting in his ratty recliner watching a football game and drinking beer. Ricky hoped that he wouldn't yell at or hit his mother, as he so often did when he was drunk. He wanted to stay to try to protect her, but the truth was that he'd never been able to do so in the past. His being there wouldn't stop his father from going ballistic, and he'd only take it out more savagely on his wife AFTER he'd given his son a set of impressive bruises, because Ricky had tried to stand up for her. He didn't want to make it harder for her, so he left.

He pulled out the address written on a piece of paper that he'd put in the pocket of his jacket. It was James' address; the cop had written it down for him last night at the hospital. Since he'd be getting out before Ricky's show ended, he'd wanted to give the address to him so that Ricky could go to his house and see him. And he really, REALLY wanted to see James right now. Being around a calm, strong, intelligent person like James made Ricky feel centered and relaxed. He never thought that he'd think that way about a gay person, but it was true. After that awful, tense dinner with his parents, he definitely needed to relax. He just hoped that James didn't feel put out about Ricky showing up at his house so soon after he'd gotten out of the hospital. He didn't want to bug the cop.

 

Ricky gnawed at his lip, but finally started his car and drove to the address written on the slip. If James seemed tired or unhappy about his presence, he'd leave quickly. it was a twenty minute drive, before he pulled up in front of a single-story house with white clapboard siding and black shutters on the windows. There was a neat front lawn and trimmed bushes, and a wind chime hung on the porch. It looked like a normal house, where a normal person lived. What had he been expecting? Rainbow siding and gay pride flags? James didn't seem to be the kind of person who would have those kind of things. 

Ricky walked up to the porch and rapped on the door hesitantly. Nothing. He thought he'd better go. Perhaps James hadn't been released after all? But as he started to turn away, his shoulders slumping a little, he heard a familiar voice call out: "Just a sec."

The door swing slowly open, revealing James standing in the doorway. The cop was hunched over a bit, and moving with care. "Oh, hey, Ricky," he said casually.

"James. I hope I'm not bothering you..." he began uncertainly.

"No. Come on in. Would you like a beer?"

Ricky followed him inside the neat and tidy little house, finding himself waved toward a comfortable-looking couch. "You can drink beer?" he said in surprise, thinking about the cop's bullet wound.

"Nah, not right now. But I had some in my fridge before I got shot. Might as well not let it go to waste," James explained as he walked slowly into his kitchen to retrieve a bottle of beer for Ricky.

"Thanks," he said gratefully as he took the bottle, which James had opened for him. 

The cop carefully settled himself into the leather armchair across from the couch. It faced the large flat-screen TV set sitting on a table. "So how was your first day at your new job?" he asked.

"Good," Ricky replied. sipping at the beer. "Really good, in fact. The station manager was impressed."

"That's great." James said, sounding sincerely pleased for him. Once again, Ricky was in silent awe for this man who didn't hate him when he had every reason to. Perhaps one day, he could be even half the man that James Belmont was. With work and effort and lots of dedication, just maybe he could become someone like James. Instead of turning into a younger copy of his father...dear God, Ricky REALLY didn't want to turn into his father...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky's starting to have special feelings for a certain cop friend of his...

Ricky couldn't quite believe what he was doing. Sitting on the couch in the living room of a gay man, drinking beer and watching a football game on the large, flat-screen TV against one wall. He'd never imagined in his wildest dreams that gay men COULD like sports; they were total pansies, after all. He glanced over at James, ensconced in his comfortable leather chair, and mused to himself silently that the cop was far from a pansy. Except for the fact that he liked other men sexually, there was nothing at all flamboyantly gay about James Belmont. You couldn't have told just looking at him that he was gay. Ricky wouldn't have guessed it in a million years if he hadn't been told.

He studied James' profile. The other man's face was a bit craggy, especially in the cheekbones. He had a firm chin, a mouth starting to be bracketed with smile lines, and a slightly arched nose. His eyes, when they stared steadily at you, were a blue-grey in color. Like a storm-tossed sea, Ricky thought fancifully, then pulled himself up sharply. Why was he thinking poetic shit about the color of another man's EYES?! 

James turned his head, as though he'd felt the weight of Ricky's stare. Their eyes met, and for some reason Ricky felt rather breathless all of a sudden. What the fuck?! What was happening here?! Alarm bells were going off shrilly in his head, and he surged abruptly to his feet. "I've got to go!" he cried in a rather high, shrieky sort of voice that made him wince internally. He sounded like a little girl. 

"Okay," James said quietly. He studied Ricky's flushed face. "Are you all right, Ricky?" he asked. 

"Yeah," he said hurriedly, setting his almost empty beer bottle down on the coffee table. "Sure. I-I'll see you later, James. Thanks for the beer, and talking to me, and everything..." he began to back toward the door, preparing to flee. 

The cop frowned slightly. He looked puzzled. Ricky couldn't blame him, but he wasn't going to try to explain his weird behavior. He had to get out of here! "Bye!" he cried, then dashed toward the door as though somebody had set his ass on fire. He felt like a total pussy as he hurried out the door, but he couldn't help it. His reaction to James had scared the living daylights out of him. 

He practically ran over to his car, jumping inside and starting the engine. He saw James appear at the door, the cop staring at him. James lifted a hand in a silent farewell, and Ricky waved back. He didn't want James to think that he was mad at him or anything...because he wasn't. He just...had to get away from here! He pulled recklessly away from the curb, roaring away down the street into the night. 

 

James watched his taillights receding. He shook his head. What had that been about? Ricky had been good all evening. They'd had a long talk about their jobs and various other subjects, and then they'd started to watch a football game. Then, all of a sudden, Ricky had jumped up like he'd been stung and had run out of the house. He had no idea what had caused Ricky to behave that way. Hopefully he'd find out soon, because he was kind of confused.

 

Ricky retreated to his bedroom as soon as he got home. he huddled up on top of his bed, hugging his knees. His eyes, in the mirror on top of his dresser, were too wide and showing a bit too much white. He laughed in cracked sort of way at his own expression. He looked like a man who'd just seen a ghost. 

He wasn't stupid. He knew that something momentous had happened to him at James' house. He didn't even want to think about what that might have been, because he simply couldn't. He felt weak and sick with fear whenever he did. His mind raced in circles, rejecting with all of its might the implications of that incident. He wasn't even going to think about it. No, he definitely wasn't. Nothing had happened. Nothing at all. And that was the way it was going to stay. He lifted his chin a bit, and the mirror him did the same. "Nothing happened," he said aloud. "Nothing at all." 

 

Ricky avoided James entirely for several days after that, too weirded out still to be able to face him. he went to work and then went straight home every day, but eventually the silence and emptiness in his house started to get to him. It made him restless. He'd never realized before this that he didn't really have any close friends; just some guys he hung out with at a bar occasionally, or did other guy things with. But those guys were from his old life, and he wasn't certain that he could sit around and listen to them trash 'faggots' and 'niggers' and 'bitches' anymore without protesting and getting his head beaten in for his troubles. And in his new life, he still hadn't quite made any friends at work yet. So the only friend that he had right now, in this interim period...was James. And he missed that friend acutely. 

He wanted to see James again, to talk to him, to hang out with him. But always, at the back of his head, was that memory of...whatever that had been...between them when their eyes had met the other night. He was afraid that might happen again. And he was even more afraid that this time he might be forced to think about just what it might be, and he wasn't sure that he could handle that. So he dithered, and worried, and fretted, until finally he couldn't take the emptiness in his house anymore. He called James, worrying at his lip as his cell phone rang. 

"Hello?" he heard James' voice say on the other end.

"James? Uh, it's me, Ricky," he said apologetically.

Silence. Then: "Ricky." James' voice was carefully neutral, and he winced.

"Listen, I'm sorry I ran out like that the other night. I just...I don't really know what happened. I guess I freaked out. I think maybe I realized I was alone with a gay guy, and I sort of...lost it," Ricky said, all of which was true but only partly the truth. 

"I see," James said. 

"I know it was stupid," he continued, "I know you wouldn't try to do anything to me. I guess it's just a knee-jerk reaction. I really am sorry," he said woefully.

"It's all right, Ricky. You don't change from a homophobe to someone who accepts gay people overnight with no effort," James replied seriously. 

"Yeah," he said. "Umm...would it be okay if I came over to your house again? I swear that I won't run away this time!" he vowed. 

"You could come over tomorrow afternoon. But I warn you, I'm having my backyard barbeque then. Are you okay with being around a crowd of people? Especially since some of them will be my gay friends?"

He swallowed. "I can handle it," he said in suppressed relief. He'd much rather be around a whole crowd of people rather than alone again with James, but he didn't want the cop to know that. 

"All right. Come at eleven o'clock. You can help me get everything set up. I could use somebody to carry heavy stuff. My side still isn't quite healed yet."

"I'll be there," Ricky said. "Can I bring anything?"

"Sure. Coleslaw, potato salad, chips, whatever you want. Any contributions are welcome," he said in faint amusement.

"I'll see you then," Ricky said happily. Much as he was freaked out about his reaction to James, he still wanted to see the man again. It sucked to be this lonely, but there was nothing else that he could do about it just yet.

 

Ricky pulled up in front of James' house, and jumped out of his car. he hurried around to open the trunk and start to unload all of the things he'd brought for the barbeque. He had bags of chips, tubs of coleslaw and potato salad, and some cases of various flavors of pop. He'd also brought bags of ice and store-bought cookies. He carried a large selection of bags up to the porch and rang the doorbell.

James opened the door, casually dressed in a rather loose sweatshirt with the logo of a sports team on the front and a pair of jeans that must have been difficult for him to get on. "Hey, Ricky," he greeted his guest. "Did you buy out the whole store?" he said, staring at the heaps of bags that Ricky was laden with.

He laughed, remembering a similar question about the gifts he'd brought to the hospital not so long ago. "Not all of it," he replied merrily. "Just most of it."

"Come on in," James stepped back and held the door open for him, and Ricky staggered inside with his load. "Take it all into the kitchen," he added.

Ricky did so, setting the bags on the kitchen table. He began to unpack stuff, while James eyed this bounty in a certain amount of disbelief. "You really came prepared," he noted.

Ricky set a tub of baked beans down on the table. "I just wanted to contribute," he said. 

"Well, you succeeded. I appreciate it. There'll be a lot of hungry cops coming today. Have to keep them well fed."

Ricky slowed in his unpacking to look up at James questioningly. "Your fellow cops...they know that you're gay? And they're okay with it?" he asked.

James shrugged. "Not all of them are, but I don't care about them. If they can't handle my sexuality, that's their problem, not mine. Most of them are good with it, though, as long as I don't shove it in their faces. But they don't shove their heterosexuality in my face, either, so it's a good compromise. We're there to do the job, first and foremost. And they all know I've got their backs. That's what's really important to a cop."

"I guess I can see that," Ricky said slowly, returning to taking things out of the bags. "It's such a dangerous job. I don't know how you do it."

"Sometimes I don't know WHY we do it," James replied wryly. "Except that we need to. Oh, well. Some people sky dive or bungee jump. I guess we're just adrenaline junkies. We like the thrill of the danger."

Ricky shivered. He couldn't even imagine being an adrenaline junkie. But then, he was a total coward. He'd already established that...he sighed. "Don't beat up on yourself, Ricky," James said, unerringly reading his thoughts from his expression and making him jump a little. "Not everyone's cut out to be a thrill-seeker. And that's not a bad thing, because if all humans were like that the species would probably die out because there'd be nobody to have kids and raise them in a safe, secure environment. It wouldn't be good for kids to have parents who were always out looking for the next thrill and chasing danger and death all the time. It takes all kinds of humans to make up the world."

Ricky wondered silently how James did it. He always managed to make Ricky feel better about everything. That's why he wanted to preserve this budding friendship, in spite of certain feelings that were making him decidedly uneasy. Surely there was a way for him to remain friends with James and also avoid experiencing whatever that had been between them again...


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky overhears a conversation that throws him for a loop

James led Ricky out the backdoor of his house and into a large backyard. He saw five picnic tables arranged on the perfectly clipped grass, and a large blow-up wading pool off to one side. On the back patio, a large, gleaming silver-and-black barbeque waited to be fired up. "My baby," James said, waving a hand at it. "While I get it ready to go, would you do some stuff for me?"

"Of course. Just tell me what to do," Ricky told him.

"There are tablecloths and plastic plates, silverware, cups, that sort of thing - in the kitchen. Would you get the tables ready?"

"Sure," Ricky started to go back into the house, but then he saw James leaning over to pick up a bag of charcoal. And he couldn't miss the wince that went across the cop's face. "Wait! Let me do that!" he cried, racing over to grab the bag away from James. When the cop looked like he might protest, Ricky glared at him. "You're not going to hurt yourself when I can do it for you," he chided sharply.

James' lips twitched. "All right," he said in amusement. "Pour it into the barbeque as evenly as you can."

Ricky nodded, lifting the bag and carefully pouring the charcoal into the bottom of the barbeque, under James' approving eye.

"Good job," James told him, making a flush of warmth run through him as he set the mostly-empty bag of charcoal onto the patio. "I'll get it fired up while you set up the tables. Sound good?"

"Yes," Ricky replied. 

James nodded, and Ricky found himself smiling as he walked into the house and made his way back to the kitchen. He retrieved the pile of tablecloths, the boxes of plastic silverware, two sleeves of plastic cups, and two large packages of plastic plates. He carried all of these things outside and over to the picnic tables. He realized that the tables were made of all wood, not wood and metal. When he ran a hand over the smooth surface of one of them, James called out: "I made those tables myself, Ricky."

Surprised, he turned to look at the cop. "You did?" he said in amazement.

James nodded. "I do woodworking in my spare time," he explained. "Over in that shed," he pointed to a large wooden shed set off to one side of the backyard. 

"That's amazing," Ricky told him. "These are great."

“Thanks," James smiled at him, which did weird things in his abdomen.   
Was his breathing becoming erratic? Ricky whirled back to the tables, pressing a hand to his chest. He picked up one of the tablecloths, shaking it out with trembling fingers. No matter how difficult it might become, he was going to ignore his reaction to James. They were friends, nothing more. Just friends! And he intended to keep it that way. 

He got the tablecloths spread out and smoothed over the tables, and set out plates, cups and silverware on every table. He was so busy that he managed to forget his odd feelings of earlier. When he was done, he straightened up and turned to look at James. The cop was still brooding over the charcoal that he'd lighted, waiting for it to reach just the right temperature. Ricky walked over to him. "I'm done," he said. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"Sure. You can bring me the covered platters in the fridge. The steaks and hamburgers. The rest of my guests should be arriving at any minute. You can answer the door and let them in if you want."

"Okay," Ricky went into the house again, and began to shunt the plastic-wrap covered platters of meat out to James at the barbeque. The cop thanked him every time. As he was bringing the fourth platter out, he heard the front doorbell ring. He hurried to take the platter out and hand it to James. "There's someone at the front door," he said quickly.

"All right. Would you go and let them in? Send them back here?"

He nodded and hurried off to answer the front door. When he pulled it open, he saw a stocky, dark-haired man standing on the front porch. The man's brows lifted a little when he saw Ricky. "Hey," he said.

"Hi," Ricky said. "Umm...James is in the backyard. he told me to tell you to go back there." 

The stocky man nodded, stepping past him into the house. "Sure. I know the way," he replied. "You a...friend...of James'?" he asked, shooting Ricky a sideways glance.

"Yes, I'm a friend," Ricky replied. 

The man nodded. He didn't say anything else, walking toward the back of the house. Ricky wondered briefly about the undertones in his voice when he'd asked that question, but his attention was diverted when the doorbell rang again. He opened the door, seeing a pretty, dark-haired woman carrying a toddler in her arms, and a friendly-faced man holding a small girl by the hand. "Oh, hi!" the woman said. 

"Hi," Ricky replied. 

"Is James here? Does he have you answering the door? What a lazybones," the woman said with a smile.

"Err..." Ricky had no idea how to reply to this.

"Sorry. I'm James' sister Beth, and this is my husband Dan. And you are?" the woman looked him over curiously. 

"Oh. I'm Ricky Raynes, a friend of James'. Please come in," he said, stepping back.

"I didn't know that James had a new 'friend'," the woman said, still looking him over. "He never said anything about it to me."

Ricky blinked. Why would James tell his sister about his friends? "We just became friends in the last few weeks," he told her.

"Ah, that explains it. Where is James?"

"In the backyard," Ricky said.

"Okay. Come on, Dan. I need to go and lecture my brother about getting himself hurt again," the woman said, heading toward the back. Her husband followed her, leading his daughter by the hand. 

 

Ricky didn't have time to close the door, because a small party of men were making their way down the sidewalk. He tensed when he saw it was the group who'd come to the hospital to see James. The gay guys. At their head was the man who wore make-up and heels. Today he was wearing a light linen suit, and his hair was carefully coiffed into a blonde shag cut. They were chattering together, but they all stopped talking when they saw Ricky standing in the doorway. "Well, well," the blonde man remarked, his glossy red lips widened into a 'cat who ate the canary' smile. "What have we here? Ricky, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he replied tensely. 

"What are you doing here, Ricky? I thought you were just at the hospital to see how James was doing." he walked up onto the porch, his heels clattering lightly on the wood. 

"Umm...we became friends. He invited me to his barbeque," Ricky told him tightly.

His eyes swept over Ricky assessingly. "Did he now?" he purred. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Freddy," another the man said when Ricky tensed. "Stop that. I'm sure that James and Ricky are just friends. He has lots of straight friends, you know that."

The blonde lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. "Yes, I'm aware of that, Colin," he replied coolly. "I'm sure that James and Ricky here...are the best of friends," he added slyly.

Ricky felt his cheeks turn red, and he sincerely thought about running away. One of the other gay guys snorted. "Freddy, you're awful," he said in exasperation. "Hey, Ricky. It's nice to see you again. Don't let Freddy get to you, okay? he's always like this," he held out his hand to be shaken, and his smile was friendly. 

Ricky took his hand, his own lips lifting in a slight smile. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome. So where do we go? the backyard?" He nodded. The men streamed into the house past Ricky, and most of them smiled at him. Freddy merely swept him with another searching glance, which made him feel uncomfortable again. But then even he walked away toward the back of the house, leaving Ricky to continue to answer the door as guests continued to arrive. 

 

Guests arrived in a steady stream after that. Men who were clearly cops arrived, often accompanied by their wives or girlfriends - and sometimes their kids. A few more men who were clearly gay also showed up, and fortunately for him all of them were friendly instead of being insinuating like Freddy had been. Ricky caught glimpses of women carrying food out back, either the food he'd bought or food that they'd brought themselves for the barbeque. Kids ran in and out of the house, yelling. It was turning into controlled chaos, and he was happy when the stream dried up to a trickle and finally stopped altogether. It looked like everybody who James had invited had arrived. Ricky closed the door with a sigh of relief, and went out back.

 

The backyard was half-full of people, talking and laughing and supervising the little hoard of kids playing in the blow-up wading pool. James was master of the barbeque, where steaks and hamburgers and hot dogs for the kids were being cooked. It all smelled delicious. His sister was standing next to him, holding her small son in her arms and talking to her brother. As Ricky approached them, he heard his own name spoken. He halted in his tracked, stretching his ears to hear what was being said.

"I'm telling you, Beth, Ricky isn't my new boyfriend," James was saying, sounding faintly exasperated. 

"Are you sure? I know that you say that you're friends because you saved his life, but I think there's more to it."

"There can't be any more to it. Ricky's not gay," James pointed out, turning a steak deftly on the barbeque. 

His sister snorted. "Yeah, right," she replied.

Ricky stiffened as James said: "Beth, what makes you think he's not straight? Are you saying you have better gaydar than me? You only met him for like five seconds."

"It's just a hunch. You say he’s been raised by parents who hate gay people, so why would he ever admit that he was gay? Or even think about it if he could avoid it? He's not going to do something consciously that would cost him his family. But underneath it all, I'd bet he has stirrings that he doesn’t even like to think about. And I'd also bet that he's never had a successful relationship with any woman."

James sighed. "Sis, you have to stop psychoanalyzing people outside of work. I don't think that they appreciate it."

She laughed, but conceded. "All right. I'll let it go. Ricky’s just your friend. But I wish you'd find somebody else, then, James. I want you to be as happy as Dan and I are."

"I want that too, Beth, but I can't just conjure the right guy out of thin air. It'll happen when it happens," James said calmly.

"Here’s hoping that it happens soon," Beth said stoutly. 

 

Standing behind them, half-hidden by a flowering bush that hugged the house, Ricky was frozen in place. Beth's words were making his stomach churn. 'Never had a successful relationship with a woman'?! Check. Maybe avoiding feelings that he might be having so as not to lose his family?! Well, he didn't know about that one. But...the way he'd been feeling about James lately...no, it couldn't be. It couldn't be! He wasn't gay! Was he...?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky has a talk with one of James' friends that helps...

Ricky fled. He scurried across the backyard, dodging James' other guests, until he found an isolated corner to hide in. Hew stood beside a thick bush that sheltered him from all prying eyes, trying to get his breathing back to normal. Panic was still racing through him, making him scream inside of his own head. 'I'm not gay, I'm not gay, I'm not gay!' he wailed silently, trying very hard to convince himself. He bowed his head and balled his hands into fists at his sides, struggling not to lose it entirely. 

"Ricky?" a voice said nearby, making him jump and whirl around. He saw the gay guy who'd defended him from Freddy standing there, looking at him in concern. 

"Hey, Ricky, are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes! No! I don't know..." Ricky said miserably, hunching his shoulders. 

"What's wrong? Would you like to talk about it?" the other man asked gently.

"I don't..." Ricky began uncertainly, not wanting to discuss this with a gay man. Yet, who might understand better? "How did you know you were gay?!" he blurted out, then tensed. 

The other man looked surprised. "How did I know...? Why do you want to know that, Ricky?"

He bit at his lip. "I...need to know!" he cried at last. "Please?"

"Well, in my case I knew by the time I was fifteen. I guess it's clichéd, but I knew because I started looking at the other boys in the locker room and showers at school. And I fantasized about some of the better-looking ones. It didn't take me long to figure out that I wasn't interested in girls. Does that help?"

"No," Ricky sighed wearily. "Have you ever met a guy who was gay who didn't know it? Who didn't figure out it out early on?"

"Yes," the other man replied promptly. "My boyfriend Nathan was a late bloomer, in fact. He dated girls in high school and college, and he told me that he didn't even want to admit to himself that he might be gay for a long time. He was even thinking of getting married to a woman and having a family."

Ricky stared at him. "What happened?" he asked, keenly curious.

"He met a guy he found irresistible sexually," Nathan explained with a small smile. "He tried to ignore it, but he finally couldn't anymore. He had a fling with the guy, and finally admitted to himself that he was gay. Which I'm glad for, since I wouldn't have dated a closet case. I would never settle for someone who can't accept himself for who he is."

Ricky hugged himself, feeling chilled. "What if...What if you were a guy who'd never had urges toward guys before this, but you started feeling them about one specific guy?" he asked pitifully. "What would that make you? A REALLY closeted gay guy?"

To his surprise, the other man shook his head. "No. To me, it sounds like he might be a budding bisexual who just didn't realize it before. And this man," he continued tactfully, "Might want to think about whether he was attracted enough to another guy to make it worth it for him to give up being a heterosexual, because life as a gay man can be very hard. It's worth it, but sometimes it's really difficult when so much of the world is against you. What it all comes down to in the long run is love. Love makes everything worth it. Anything less - maybe not so much."

Ricky took in a deep breath. "So this guy...should maybe not do anything about these feelings if it's not love?"

"That's up to him," the other man said with a slight smile. "And what he wants. Did that help at all?"

"It really did!" Ricky told him gratefully. "Thanks so much...umm..."

The other man laughed. "Daniel. James introduced us all the other night at the hospital, but there are a fair number of us. It's no wonder you couldn't remember our names. I'm glad that I could help, Ricky. I hope that that man," he added with a grin, "Figures something good out for himself."

"Me, too," Ricky replied fervently. "Me, too."

 

After that, he came out of hiding and joined the party. He still had a lot to think about, but talking to Daniel had made him feel better. A bisexual, huh? That made more sense to him than that he was just up and turning gay in his mid-twenties. And Daniel was right that he should think hard about his attraction to James, and whether it was strong enough to be worth his throwing away his old life and his family to be with another man. 

He might have felt a bit left out, since everybody else at the party knew most of the other guests; except that James' sister Beth intercepted him and began introducing him around. She was genuinely kind to him, and didn't once mention her conversation with James at the barbeque earlier. He was very relieved about that. Many people were curious about James saving his life, so Ricky ended up telling the story half-a-dozen times. Once in awhile he'd glance over at the barbeque, where James was holding court. The cop was always talking to one of his friends, or laughing over something. Ricky tried hard not to stare at him, but wasn't always successful. 

 

Finally it was time to eat. People collected plates of food and cups full of pop or bottles of beer or water, and sat down at the tables. Ricky approached the barbeque, where James was putting meat onto people's plates. "Hey, Ricky," he said, and Ricky tried to ignore the way his heart jumped a bit when the cop smiled at him. "Having fun?"

"Yeah," he replied truthfully, a little surprised. After that incident earlier, he was startled that he'd relaxed enough to have a good time. 

"Great. What's your pleasure?"

"What?!" he exclaimed, his eyes going rather wide at this question.

James lifted a brow. "What kind of meat do you want?" he asked slowly and clearly, his eyes gleaming with suppressed humor.

Ricky could feel his heart pounding in his chest. "Oh," he said hurriedly. "Steak would be good."

James neatly forked a perfectly-done piece of NY strip onto Ricky's plate. "There you go. Enjoy."

"Thanks," Ricky said, and backed away hurriedly. His cheeks felt rather hot. he felt like an idiot as he fled over to the table where the rest of the food was laid out. He occupied himself with spooning potato salad, baked beans, jell-o salad, and coleslaw onto his plate, then added a handful of regular chips and a spoonful of ranch dip. He found a place to sit at a crowded table, finding himself sitting near Daniel and the man he'd arrived with, who must be his boyfriend Nathan.

Daniel smiled in welcome at him. "Hey, Ricky. The food looks good, huh?"

"It sure does," he replied.

"Anyway, this is Nathan. Nathan, you remember Ricky?"

"Yeah. How you doing?" Nathan said amiably. 

"Pretty good," Ricky said. "It's nice to meet you."

Nathan nodded, then applied himself to his food. Daniel chuckled. "He's starving," he told Ricky in amusement. "He hasn't eaten in over four hours."

His boyfriend gave him an elbow in his side, which made him grunt. He winked at Ricky, who found himself laughing. He marveled over this fact, especially when he knew that only three weeks ago he wouldn't even have talked to someone like Daniel. And if he had, he would have done nothing but hurled slurs at Daniel's face. That thought made him feel heartily ashamed of himself. Daniel was so very nice, and he'd helped Ricky to sort himself out...it really didn't matter that Daniel was gay. It mattered what kind of person that he was, not who he slept with. Why had he never thought about that before?

He had all kinds of excuses, including his home life when he was a child. But still...that he'd never once contemplated that the way he thought of and felt about gay people might be wrong...he was disgusted with himself. He really had been on the way to turning into his father, before that bank robbery. What a horrible thought. 

He vowed to try to be more open-minded from now on, even if it wasn't always easy. People deserved to be judged on their own merits or lack thereof, not taken as a whole and labeled. Not stuffed into one category and looked down upon just because of their sexual orientation. Or their skin color, or what country they happened to be from, or what sex they were...Ricky could clearly see that putting people into boxes was a child's way of thinking. If he ever wanted to be a mature adult, he had to start thinking about people in a different way from now on. 

 

He concentrated on his food for a bit, because it was quite good and his stomach appreciated it. But when his hunger had abated, and he glanced up and down the table, he was surprised to see that James was sitting near the head of his table with his sister and her family, and he hadn't even noticed. The cop was saying something to his little niece, who was giggling. He blinked when James made a horrible face at the little girl, which made her go into howls of laughter. His heart went mushy in his chest at the sight of the big, bad cop entertaining the tiny girl, and Ricky almost poked himself in the eye with his own fork when he absent-mindedly tried to take a bite of potato salad while staring at James intently. 

A hand touched his arm, and he turned his head to see that Daniel had slid down a bit when the person sitting next to Ricky had gotten up, and was sitting right next to him smiling. "Hey, Ricky. Do you find something interesting?" he asked, cutting his eyes down the table to where James was sitting. 

He felt his face flame. "No!" he said hurriedly. 

Daniel nodded. "Of course not," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Although I've got to say this," he went on softly, "If that guy who was starting to have feelings about another man was having those feelings about someone as awesome as James, I couldn't blame him at all. If I hadn't met Nathan and fallen head-over-heels, I would have SO made a play for James myself. In fact, that's how he made at least half of his gay friends - they all hit on him, and were willing to settle for just being friends when they couldn't get anything else from him."

"Why couldn't they get anything else from him?" Ricky asked, not trying to hide his intense curiosity now. What was the point? Daniel could see right through him. 

Daniel shrugged. "James is really picky. He only dates guys that he's really attracted to. He won't just jump into bed with any guy, no matter how hot they are. I've always admired him for that."

"Oh," Ricky was just realizing that his attraction to James might not go anywhere anyway, even if he ever gave into it. Now why did that thought not comfort him at all? Why did it make him feel melancholy instead?


	10. Chapter 10

The party was finally over. James ushered his guests out the door, kissing his niece and nephew on the face and shaking his brother-in-law's hand. Beth leaned over to buss her brother on the cheek. "Great day, bro," she said. "Thanks for inviting us."

"You're welcome. While the weather's nice like this, I'll have at least one more barbeque. Will you guys come?"

"Of course. Just let me know the day and time. Call me soon, James," she smiled at him, and carried her sleepy daughter away toward the car where her husband was settling their small son into his car seat. 

Ricky hesitated in the hallway behind James, wondering if he should leave too. But he didn't want to leave James alone to have to clean up the mess from the party all by himself, not with his side still not totally healed. Suddenly he jumped as a hand seized his arm, and turned his head to look into Freddy's face. "Here you are, Ricky!" he called out. "Come and help us clean up." he dragged Ricky away, and he didn't protest because that's what he'd wanted to do, anyway. 

Freddy took him out into the backyard, where he found the rest of James' gay friends busily clearing away the tables and throwing away a mountain of trash, all the while busily chattering away at each other. They greeted his appearance at Freddy's side with cheerful smiles and invitations to join them, and he found himself smiling as well as he walked over to where Daniel and Nathan were putting plastic wrap over the depleted bowls of food and putting the serving utensils into a tub to be taken into the house and washed.

 

James returned to the backyard a bit later, finding Ricky helping his other friends to clean up the yard. They'd finally pushed the tables out of the way, and were busily picking up any trash left in the neatly-mown grass. James paused in the doorway, seeing how easily Ricky fit into the group already. He didn't seem nervous at all as he talked to Daniel about something; and he laughed outright when Nathan made a comment and pinched his boyfriend on his derriere. The indignant expression on Daniel's face WAS quite funny. James found his own lips twitching a bit as well.

He felt great satisfaction as he watched Ricky. It seemed his campaign to help a homophobe reform was going pretty well. That was mostly Ricky; he'd come a long way in a very short time, proving that at heart he wasn't a bad person at all. All he'd needed was to actually meet some real gay people in person, and to really think about the way he'd been acting and the things he'd been saying. It was easy to continue patterns of behavior that you'd learned and seen all of your life; it was much more difficult to step away from them, but Ricky was making great progress on that front. He was looking forward to seeing what kind of man that Ricky became once he was fully reformed.

Ricky was smiling widely as he watched Daniel fake-pursue his boyfriend across the grass, in retaliation for the ass pinching. He really had a great smile, James thought to himself. Sunny, charming, full of life. It was the kind of smile that could make people melt just at the sight of it. Someone could get lost in that smile, if they weren't careful. Someone like him...

He started at this thought, a frown flashing over his face. What the hell?! Oh, shit. He wasn't starting to feel attraction for Ricky, was he? He wanted to groan aloud. This was not good. Ricky was a straight man, and worse a straight man who was just learning to trust and like gay men. He couldn't derail that by hitting on Ricky, even if he'd actually been a closeted gay. And James didn't think that he was; while Ricky did come off a bit sideways on his gaydar, it wasn't giving him the signal that he normally got from one of his 'own kind'.

He rubbed at the side of his face. This situation could get tricky, if he really was starting to be attracted to Ricky. The other man wanted to spend a lot of time with him, which James could understand since Ricky really needed a friend to help him while he was struggling with his whole life turning upside-down. But it would be difficult to just be a friend and sounding board, when all he'd want to do was kiss Ricky and touch him instead. Still, he could control himself. He wasn't a hormonally-charged teenager with his first crush; he was grown man. Even if he felt twinges of attraction toward Ricky, he'd push them away. He wasn't going to mess up Ricky's 'homophobe recovery' for his own selfish whims. Not that it would come to anything anyway, since Ricky was straight...

 

Unaware of the thoughts running through James' head, Ricky giggled as he watched Daniel pretend-hit Nathan on the arm, then squeal as his boyfriend grabbed him and pulled him in close to kiss him. Ricky felt his face turn a little red, and looked away from an intense kiss. He still wasn't quite ready to look at that kind of thing yet. 

His eyes ended up at the sliding glass doors leading into the house, and he saw James standing there watching them. His heart jumped in his chest, beating wildly. His breathing came short, and he felt a fluttering in his chest and abdomen as he looked at the cop. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to walk across the grass and kiss James just like Nathan was kissing Daniel. He shuddered faintly. Why? Why was he so overwhelmingly attracted to another MAN?! 

James turned his head, and Ricky hurriedly looked away lest their eyes meet. He stood there recovering his equilibrium, and as he did so he realized that it wasn't that he was attracted to another man, it was that he was immensely attracted to JAMES. To James, and only James. Here he was surrounded by attractive gay men, and he felt nothing toward any of them. Nor had he ever felt anything about another man before James. Something about the cop called to him in a way he'd never experienced before, with either man or woman. 

He heard James call out: "Hey, guys. Thanks for helping to clean up. I appreciate it."

"Hey, you know we'd do anything for you, James," Freddy replied. "Besides, you shouldn't have to strain yourself cleaning up after your guests, not when you're just out of the hospital."

Ricky looked back at James, seeing him walking slowly across the grass toward the party of his friends. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked Freddy.

His friend made a "Tssk," noise, and waved a red fingernail at him. "Absolutely not," he replied sternly. "We're almost finished. Why don't you go into the house, sit down, and watch some TV?"

James shook his head. "I'm not a total invalid," he pointed out dryly.

"Well you might be, if you don't take good enough care of yourself. So shoo-shoo," he made motions with his hands, and James gave up.

"All right. Thanks again, guys," he said gratefully, before he made his way indoors again.

Freddy nodded his head in satisfaction, putting his hands on his hips. "I swear, that man! Such a typical guy," he remarked. "Never wants to admit to any weakness. Are we almost finished out here?"

"Yep," another man said. Ricky thought his name was Colin. "We'll take the trash out, and Mark and Peter will clean the grill, if you want to get started on the dishes, Freddy."

"Of course. Come on, Ricky; you can help me," the blonde said gaily, seizing his arm once again. Ricky let himself be towed inside the house, carrying the plastic tub with the dirty serving utensils in it. He didn't fight against that grip; he was kind of scared of Freddy. He worried what the man might do to him if he protested. 

 

In the kitchen, Freddy began to run a sink full of hot water. He added some dish detergent from the bottle standing by the sink ,then turned to Ricky. "Give me that," he said, taking the plastic tub. 

Ricky hesitated in the doorway, wondering what to do. It only took one person to wash dishes, after all. Freddy spoke up without turning around, as he emptied the tub into the soapy water. "I'm curious about you, Ricky," he commented. 

"About me? "Ricky said in perplexity. "Why?"

Freddy stopped what he was doing, and turned around. He leaned back against the counter as he directed a keen stare at Ricky. "I'm just wondering," he began, something indefinable in his voice, "What Ragin' Ricky Raynes is doing hanging around a gay cop."

Ricky froze, cold enveloping him. Freddy KNEW?! Knew who he was? Or at least, who he had been up until a few weeks ago. He gulped, heavily. "I...how do you know...who I am?" he squeaked. 

Freddy shook his head. "I thought your voice sounded familiar at the hospital, but at first I couldn’t place it," he replied. "Then, a few days ago, I happened to turn to the station where you're an afternoon DJ. I thought that's where I knew you from, but as I listened to you talk I suddenly placed where ELSE I’d heard you speaking on the radio before this. The last time, you were screaming about how 'fags' were going to destroy the world as we know it, and how we should all be herded into concentration camps for perverts."

Ricky felt sick. He dropped his eyes, shame swamping him. "That was me, yes," he admitted miserably. "Up until the bank robbery that put James in the hospital. Because...a gay cop had saved my life. Had taken a bullet for me. That made me think about what I'd been doing, and the things I’d been saying. It made me reevaluate my whole life. And when I went to see James in the hospital, he offered to help me change my ways. He knows who I was too, you see. He said it was wroth it to reform a homophobe if he could. He's really been a big help to me," he added. "He's listened when I wanted to talk, and given me some good advice. I can’t thank him enough for doing all of that for me, even after I was so horrible about gay people for so long on my radio program."

"I see," Freddy said softly. "That’s just like him. James is an amazing man. And you're very lucky, Ricky. It seems that James has managed to save more than just your life."

"Yeah," Ricky agreed, feeling a lump in his throat. "I know how lucky I am. I'll try not to take that for granted." 

“See that you don't," Freddy remarked tartly. "Now, come and dry these utensils. There are towels in that drawer," he pointed at the drawer in question, then returned to washing the utensils. Ricky walked over to retrieve a towel, relieved that everything was out in the open now. At least where Freddy was concerned, anyway. He wondered if he should tell the others. But even the thought of the way that Daniel and the others would look at him if he confessed that he'd been a horrible, homophobic shock jock who'd said terrible things about people like them on a regular basis...he wasn't sure he could do it. Not now. Maybe later, when they'd gotten to know him better and had seen that he wasn't like that anymore...


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky makes a move!

The afternoon was drawing to a close, and James' gay friends were preparing to go home. The cop stood at the door, saying goodbye. Several of his friends kissed him on the cheek. Watching them, Ricky felt wistful. He wished that he could do the same. Although perhaps not on the cheek...

Freddy patted James lightly on the shoulder. "Feel better, my dear," he said.

"I will. See you later, Freddy," James replied. 

"Call me!" Freddy said, waving a hand lightly at him. He clicked away down the sidewalk toward his car.

Now it was just the two of them in the front hallway. James turned to look at him. Ricky gulped, feeling acutely nervous. "Hey, Ricky. Did you have fun?" the cop asked him.

He nodded, a little too quickly. "It was great!" he cried.

James looked pleased. "Glad you liked it. I thought you'd get along with my friends. And see - you didn't die from getting gay cooties on you, did you?" he teased.

Ricky blushed a little. "No. They were really nice," he said. 

James smiled. "You've come a long way, baby," he remarked, and Ricky felt his breath catch at being called 'baby', even if James didn't really mean it as a term of endearment. 

He felt a surge of anxiety go through him. He was alone in this house with a man who made him feel things he never had before! He had to get out of here! "I-I should go!" he blurted out, edging toward the door.

"All right," James said calmly. "I'll see you later, Ricky."

He felt shame lance through him. He kept acting like a nervous idiot, but he couldn't seem to help himself. "Yeah, later," he yelped, and scurried out the door. 

 

James stood and watched Ricky beat feet. He drew in a deep breath. This whole situation was getting complicated. But he vowed silently to conceal his sudden attraction from Ricky; he didn't want to spook the poor thing any further than he already was. He didn't want to interfere with Ricky's rehabilitation, and he imagined that having a gay guy hit on him might just send Ricky running back to the side of the homophobes in pure panic. James sighed. Life could be hard, sometimes. Really, really hard.

 

Ricky avoided calling James for the next few days. It wasn't that he didn't want to see the cop; he really, really did. But he was trying hard to fight his unnatural yearnings. On the second day, he spent some time on his computer, downloading straight porn. He figured that if he watched lots of it, he might be able to drive this sudden gayness out of his head. He sat in front of his computer, watching a particularly nasty video, breathing heavily as he stroked himself. Surely getting himself off like this would be sure to bring him back to the straight side...

Ricky groaned, watching two couples getting it on. But then he gaped and his eyes widened in shock, as a third man entered the room. The new guy was already naked and stroking himself, preparing to get in on the action. And he...he...looked just like James! Well, not totally, but enough that it left Ricky stunned. He couldn't look away as the porn star came over to one of the couples and knelt down next to them. Then, to Ricky's further shock, he reached out and turned the male's head and kissed him!

Ricky gaped in disbelief and shocked arousal as the two men began to make out, while the one guy continued to plow into the squealing female vigorously. The two men's tongues were weaving together. It was completely erotic. Oh, God! Somehow, he'd managed to download a porn video full of bisexuals! He groped at his mouse, trying to shut it down, but before he could manage to get his fingers to work well enough, the one that looked like James rose to his feet and circled the fucking couple, kneeling down behind the man. He reached out and spread the man's furiously pumping ass cheeks wide, then buried his face between them!

Oh, shit...Ricky's chest heaved as he struggled to take a breath. This could not be happening. he wasn't seeing what he was seeing. He was frozen in his chair now, unable to move, his eyes fastened on the his computer screen. His cock jerked and surged in his lax hand as the porn star who resembled James ate out the ass of the man fucking the woman. His vision was failing, he was going to pass out from lack of air at any moment...

The James-clone rose to his feet at last, and Ricky thought it was over. No such luck, though. He wheezed in desperate despair as the porn star spread the man's ass cheeks wide with his hands, then drove his cock into the man's ass! The woman on the bottom cried out in ecstasy as the man mounting her was driven even deeper into her body by this move, and the man fucking her moaned loudly as he was taken from behind. The man who looked like James began to pump, and the guy he was fucking began to drive wildly into the woman under him. It was the hottest, nastiest thing that Ricky had ever seen in his entire life. 

The man being fucked was making noises like a dying seal. Ricky groaned, his back arching, as he began to come all over himself without even moving his hand. All he could see in his head was an image of himself as the man being taken, and it threw him into a gut-wrenching, massive orgasm that left him a limp mass on his chair for long minutes afterward. He lay in his chair, panting, his glazed eyes staring at nothing. 

Dear...God...that had been a huge, incredible mistake. But how could he have known that it was a bisexual porn video?! Or that one of the stars would look so much like James?! Apparently he had the worst luck ever!! He was so, so screwed!

He jumped as his cell phone rang. He fumbled for it where it lay on his desktop, his fingers shaking. He hit the button on the second try, then put it to his ear. "Hello?" he croaked.

"Hey, Ricky," James' deep voice said in his ear.

He actually moaned in horror. "Ricky? You okay?" he heard James ask in concern.

"Yuh-Yes," he said, "I-I'm fine. Sorry."

"You sure?" James still sounded concerned. Damn him, he was too damn nice! Ricky wanted to pound his head on his desktop. 

"Yes! I'm sure!" he screeched.

"Okkayy, then. I was just calling to ask if you wanted to come over tomorrow night and watch the Steelers/Patriots game with me. I'd ask one of my gay friends, but not to stereotype any of them but they all hate sports. They think it's boring. I'd ask one of the guys I work with, but most of them will be at a cop bar we all like to go to to watch it. And I don't feel like hanging out in a huge crowd of cops right now. So would you come over and keep me company? I can promise you beer and snacks."

Ricky swallowed heavily. The images from the porn video were still dancing in his head, and that along with the little tingles still racing down his nerves from that intense orgasm, were making him feel decidedly befuddled. He wanted to manufacture an excuse for why he couldn't go over to James' house tomorrow and be alone with him all evening, but his mind wasn't working well enough to come up with anything. 

"Sure," he said, grimacing at himself in his own head. "I'll come over."

"Great. I'll see you then. Thanks, Ricky," James said gratefully.

He hung up the phone and sat there weakly with it hanging from his fingers. He was such an idiot! He could have told James that he was having dinner with his parents again! But his stupid brain had refused to work properly until it was too late, and now he was stuck having to spend the evening with a guy who made him feel crazy - not only mentally, but with lust as well. He whimpered miserably, burying his face in his hands on the desk. Things just kept getting worse and worse...

 

Ricky ventured up the sidewalk toward James' house, feeling like a man going to his own execution. He thought he might start to hyperventilate at any moment. His stomach was tying itself into knots inside of him. He trailed up onto the porch and knocked on the door, jumping a little when it swung open to show James standing in the doorway. "Hey, Ricky. Thanks for coming over," he said, smiling. "Come on in."

That smile did the worst things to his abdomen and other regions of his body. Ricky stepped into the front hallway, far too conscious of how close James was to him. He could reach out and touch the other man...it would be so very easy...

"Come into the living room," James said, making him start. 

"Okay," he said hoarsely, following after James into the living room. He stared at the other man's broad back, and an image of the way that the James look-alike's back had flexed and arched as he'd driven into the man under him in the video...Oh, God, was it hot in here?! 

James pointed at the coffee table, where two bowls full of chips and pretzels sat, and a little cooler held a half-a-dozen chilled beers. "Help yourself," he told Ricky. 

He sat down gingerly in the chair he always sat in, reaching out to take a beer from the cooler. James had clicked on the TV and had flipped the channel to the football game. Ricky opened the beer, and lifted it to his mouth. Just as he was taking a sip, James said casually: "Who do you like, Ricky?"

He spat out the beer in shock, spluttering and wheezing helplessly as he tried to draw breath past the block in his throat. He coughed as a hand smacked him in the middle of his back and jarred loose the beer that had stuck in his throat. He hacked and drew breath, panting as he recovered. 

 

Dimly, Ricky became aware that a hand was rubbing up and down over his back, soothingly. After a moment, his confused mind realized who that hand had to belong to. James' hand was stroking over his back, and oh, Jesus he was getting an erection! 

"Are you okay, Ricky?" he heard James saying in concern. 

No, he wasn't. He was insane! And aroused, and confused, and miserable...he felt a sob rising up in his throat. Wretchedly, achingly, he began to cry. His shoulders heaved as he shook with the force of his sobs, his hands rising to cover his face. 

Shocked silence. Then, a pair of hands closed over his shoulders. "Tell me what's wrong, Ricky," James said in his ear, shaking him a little. "What is it? What’s the matter? Tell me, I can help."

Yes, of course he wanted to help. Noble, courageous, strong, amazing man. Ricky lifted his head, his eyes glimmering with tears, and turned to look into James' concerned face. His lower lip quivered a little, but he didn't start crying again. Instead, he did what he'd wanted to do for several weeks now - he lunged out of his chair and threw his arms around James' neck, rocking him. The cop's mouth opened, but before he could speak, Ricky kissed him ferociously, with all of the pent-up desire he felt in that kiss...


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Ricky start a relationship

James was so startled by this sudden kiss that he didn't move for a moment. And then, when he could have disengaged, he had to admit that he was enjoying Ricky's frantic, urgent kissing too much to pull away. So for almost a minute he allowed it to go on, and even returned it. His hands cradled Ricky's waist, and he felt his body surge as Ricky's soft moans reached his ears. He even felt the unholy urge to push Ricky down on the couch and seduce him right here and now. He knew that he could do it; all he had to do was get Ricky to stop thinking about anything. Once it was his body doing the thinking for him, all of his objections would disappear. 

But he couldn't. He knew that while it would bring him great pleasure now, the guilt that Ricky would feel afterward would mess him up even more. And he might run away from James as far and as fast as he could, never to return. it wasn't worth it. So he sighed and gently untangled them at last, pushing Ricky away. It didn't help to see those kiss-swollen lips or the hazy eyes, but the tears staining Ricky's cheeks did. "Ricky," he said in a low voice. "What was that for?"

Ricky flinched visibly. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. 

"For what?" James asked, making him blink. 

"For kissing you! I shouldn't have done that!" Ricky wailed. 

James shook his head. "While I don't know why you did it, I'm not objecting to it happening," he said.

Ricky was visibly quivering. "I couldn't help myself," he whispered. "I just COULDN'T! I don't know why...I've always liked girls...I don't know what's happening to me..."

"It's okay, Ricky. It really is," James said soothingly. 

Ricky shook his head violently. Then he burst into tears again, his shoulders heaving. James immediately took Ricky in his arms, cradling the back of his head with one large hand and massaging the muscles tenderly. "It's all right, Ricky. Cry it out," he said into the other man's ear. 

Ricky sobbed, held in James' strong arms, and afterward he felt spent and empty but also better. He slumped in James' grip, feeling safe and protected and taken care of. All of his misery and confusion seemed to have flowed away. It was as though he belonged here, in this man's arms. He could have stayed here forever.

But he couldn't do that. At last he stirred, lifting his head a bit. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. 

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Ricky," James assured him calmly. "If it helps, I really enjoyed that kiss," he added.

Ricky's eyes went wide. James' lips twitched a bit at the expression on his face. It was just too adorable. "Y-You DID?!" Ricky squeaked.   
James nodded. "Yeah. I was pleasantly surprised. I'll admit that I've started to feel more than a bit of attraction toward you, but I wasn't going to do anything about it because you're straight. Maybe not as straight as I thought, though," he went on thoughtfully. 

Ricky blushed pink, a decidedly sexy sight. "I've always been straight," he breathed helplessly. "I never thought that I...but then, the last few weeks, I've felt...I'm scared," he said miserably. 

"It's all right to be scared. But I hope you won't let fear get in the way of what you really want, Ricky. Whatever that may be," James said soberly. 

He twitched. "I don't want to let fear rule me," Ricky said. "I used to let hate rule me, and I know that the underlying cause of hate is most often fear. I learned that in college," he told James. "I just never applied it to myself. But I don't want to let fear stop me anymore, or ruin my life. So..." he looked up into James' eyes, as though searching for something there. "I don't know what to do here," he said helplessly. "What should I do, James?"

"Well, you've got two choices, here, Ricky," the cop replied quietly, his eyes serious. "You can ignore what you feel, and we can just go on being friends. We'll pretend this never happened. That won't be easy, but we can both do it if that's what you really want. Or you can decide that you want to see where this might go, and we could maybe try dating or something. It's all up to you, Ricky. You're the one who has to try to deal with an entirely new situation, so I'll do whatever you want to do."

Ricky made nervous gestures with his hands. He could just ask James to go back to being friends, and this whole incident could be forgotten. That sounded so good! But could he actually do that? Being around James, hanging with him day after day, would he be able to control himself? That kiss had been...amazing. He'd never had a kiss like that before, and his whole body had felt like it was on fire. Could he really give that up entirely? Could he be around James and NOT want to kiss him or be touched by him?   
"If we...tried dating..." he began timidly, "Could we...take it slow? I mean..."

"We can go as fast or as slow as you want, Ricky," James told him. "We could just hang around together like we have been so far, but we could consider those dates. And as for the intimate stuff, I'll wait patiently and let you decide when you're ready to initiate it. It'll all be up to you."

Ricky felt happiness and relief well up in him. James was so wonderful! "I'd like that," he said. "Thank you so much, James."

James smiled slightly. "You're welcome, Ricky. But the truth is, I'm willing to go at whatever pace you want because I know that there's no other way that we'd be able to get together. You're a former homophobe who's always been straight, who's having feelings for another guy for the first time. Of course that's going to be complicated. Taking it slow is a good idea for both of us in this situation. In fact, how about we finish watching the game and call that our first date? No kissing required," he added teasingly.

Ricky blushed a little, but he smiled as well. "I'd like that," he said shyly. 

 

An hour later, Ricky sat back in his seat and glanced over at James. The cop was intently watching the screen, his whole body hunched as he willed the players on silently. It still made Ricky feel bemused to realize that he was actually sort of on a date with James - even if it was the most casual, laid-back date that he'd ever been on. They really were just hanging out together, and the extra tension caused by the kiss(Oh, God, he couldn't believe that he'd actually done that!) had leaked away. Now he felt relaxed and happy. Sure, he was dating another man. Dear Lord, he was dating another man! Whenever he thought about it he got tense and anxious, so he'd decided to sort of go with the flow and not think about it too much.

He also wasn't going to think about the complications this would bring to his life. If his father ever found out...oh, shit, he couldn't even think about that! But he also didn't want to think about his mother finding out, or any of his old friends. He'd have to keep his old life and his new separated from now on, which wasn't always going to be easy.

But he could do it. And he would. It might be wrong for him to want to date another guy, but if it was wrong Ricky had decided that he didn't want to be right. James was such an amazing person - how could he not want to be with him, even if James were another man? It might have helped a lot if the cop were a woman, but he wasn't. And Ricky just had to deal with that fact. And keep those who WOULDN'T be able to deal with it from ever finding out the truth...

He took a swig of his beer, deciding to put this all out of his mind for now. He wasn't going to worry too much over what might happen. The future would take care of itself. Right now there was only the present, and James. And that was definitely enough for Ricky.

 

Later, after the game was over, they stood on James' porch together. The cop had come out to say goodnight to him. Ricky looked up at James, studying the masculinely-handsome face. "I had a great time," he said sincerely.

"Me, too," James replied with a smile. "Best date I've ever been on, in fact. It's nice to be with a guy who likes sports."

Ricky found himself laughing a little. "You can't be the only gay guy who likes sports," he remarked in disbelief.

"No, I’m sure that I'm not. But all of the guys that I’ve dated either hated sports or were indifferent to them. I hadn't realized before this how much that frustrated me. It's kind of important to have some things in common with whoever you date, don't you think? I mean, not everything. Nobody wants to date a carbon copy of themselves. But if you have nothing in common, that's just as bad. Maybe worse."

"I get what you're saying. None of the girls that I've dated liked sports either. It never bothered me because I guess I always thought that girls just wouldn't like sports. But that's not true either, is it? There are plenty of girls who like sports."

"Yes, there are. I've seen lots of women at games. Maybe we've both just been looking in the wrong places for people to date."

"Yeah. Umm...did you want to hang out again tomorrow?" Ricky asked tentatively.

"That sounds great. We'll do whatever you want. Call me after work and we'll decide."

That sounded great. Ricky started to turn toward his car, then stopped and looked over his shoulder at James. The cop cocked his head. "What is it?" He asked.

Ricky squirmed a bit. "Whenever I end a date, I always..." he began uncertainly.

"You always what?" James asked patiently.

He could feel his face turning red. "Well...umm...a goodnight kiss..." he trailed off, wondering if he should just skitter off to his car and drive away as fast as he possibly could.

James was still, watching him. “You want me to give a you a goodnight kiss, Ricky?" he asked softly.

"Yes! No! I don't know!" he cried, wanting to pull his hair out.

James chuckled and walked off of the porch. He approached Ricky slowly and carefully, as though he were a wounded animal. "I'll be happy to give you a goodnight kiss," he said. 

Ricky stood still, quivering, waiting. James reached out and cradled his face in his hands, and leaned forward. His lips brushed Ricky's gently, slowly, sweetly. It was a tender thing, and it made his body melt and his heart beat faster. He was panting, his eyes unfocused, when James drew back. "There," the cop said. "Goodnight, Ricky."

Ricky blinked. He couldn’t speak just yet. James grinned at his speechlessness, then reached out and stroked his cheek lightly with his fingers. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ricky," he said, and went back into his house. He seemed to understand that he'd so disconcerted poor Ricky that he might not even be able to move if James were still there.

Ricky trailed slowly off to his car. His lips were still tingling from that kiss, and the skin of his cheek was where James had caressed him. Dazed, bemused, and rather out-of-it, he got into his car and drove slowly home.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky and James are dating, and Ricky's starting to feel a bit crazy...

Ricky sat at a table in the Mexican restaurant, trying hard not to fidget. His eyes kept darting here and there, as he worried that the other patrons of the establishment would figure out that he and James were here on a date. Not that there was much chance of that, really...the cop was sitting across from him, and they were talking mostly about 'manly' things like sports and cars and fishing. They weren't holding hands, or gazing into each others' eyes, or saying lovely-dovey stuff to each other. To other people, they probably just looked like two guy friends hanging out together.

His paranoia was stupid; Ricky knew that. It wasn't like there was much chance of them running into any of his friends from his old life, or(God forbid!)his father! But it also made him uncomfortable that he was out on a date in public with another guy. He still wasn't used to this whole 'I'm bi-sexual' thing yet. And coming from the kind of life that he'd had before, it was even worse for him. Going from homophobe to a person who wanted to date another man was a rocky transition. He just hoped that James would continue to be patient with him as he adjusted to all of this. 

So far, James had been incredibly patient. Usually, Ricky went over to his house to hang out after work, and those evenings had each counted as one date. They hadn't progressed very far yet in the intimacy department; while James always gave him a gentle 'goodnight' kiss on the porch before he left, the cop made no other move to touch him. Ricky was so grateful for his kindness and understanding that it almost made him want to weep. That's why he'd agreed to come out on a more public date tonight with James. But unfortunately, he couldn't stop himself from being anxious and jumpy. 

"Ricky," James said. 

He jumped, his eyes flying to the cop's face. James was staring at him seriously across the table. "We can leave if you want to, Ricky," he went on quietly.

"Oh...no..." he said. "I...It's just..."

"You're nervous about being out in public with me, " James finished for him.

He nodded miserably. "I'm sorry," he said hopelessly.

James shook his head. "There's nothing to be sorry for, Ricky. I told you when we started this that we'd go at your pace. If it really bothers you to be out in public with me, we'll go."

He felt a spurt of warmth run through him. "No," he repeated, shaking his head. "We can stay. I have to get over this sometime, don't I? If we're going to keep on...dating?"

"Yes, that's true," James agreed. "Because while I agreed to go at your pace, I want you to understand that I won't be willing to keep our relationship secret forever, Ricky. I don't work that way."

"I get that," he replied. His fingers twined together in front of him on the tabletop. "I really do. I just..."

"Slow and easy, Ricky. No worries," James said gently. "I won't push it, I promise. But if you're okay with staying, what do you want to eat?"

 

He finally relaxed after that, and they talked as they ate. As they left the restaurant, James said to him: "You did a good job, Ricky. You didn't run away or wig out. I think we've made some important progress tonight. I'm proud of you."

He took in a deep, shuddering breath. "Thanks," he said. "I'm trying really hard."

James' hand briefly touched his shoulder. "I know you are. This is difficult for you. That you're trying at all means a lot to me."

 

When they got into Ricky's car, James was silent for a while. Then he spoke: "Ricky, I just wanted to tell you that I'm going back to work in a few days."

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel until they turned white. "Oh," he said in a small voice. 

"I'm a cop, Ricky," James said quietly. "That's something you're going to have to accept if you want to date me. I can't change who I am."

"I know," he said, his throat tightening a little. "It's just...I'm scared."

"I get that. The first time you ever saw me was when I got shot at the bank. My job can be dangerous, I admit that. But I love doing it. Just like you love what you do. Would you want to do something else, even if it got a little dangerous sometimes?"

Ricky thought about that as he drove. "No," he admitted after awhile. "Probably not. But is it okay if I worry?"

"Yes, it's totally okay if you worry about me. I get why you would, and it actually makes me feel pretty good that you care enough about me to worry about me."

Ricky felt his cheeks heat a little. "If you're going back to work, what about us?" he asked aloud after a moment. 

"I work a morning shift, so my going back to work won't affect our dates. I'll mostly be home before you get off of work yourself. You can still come and hang out with me in the evenings whenever you want to."

He liked the sound of that. He wasn't ready for all of their dates to be out in public just yet. While this one had been successful, his nervousness and anxiety about being out in public with James on a date had been pretty bad. He could maybe do that once a week for now, but not more often. Not just yet, not until he started to feel more confident about the whole thing. 

 

He pulled up in front of James' house. "Do you want to come in?" the cop asked him.

"Uh, no. Not tonight. I have to go in early to work tomorrow to do some promos."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, then," James leaned over and captured his lips in a gentle kiss. 

Ricky gasped a little as he pulled back. He wished that he were courageous enough to lean over himself and ask for more, but he wasn't. He drew in a shuddering breath. "Goodnight, James," he said in a voice that shook only a little.

 

The cop smiled at him and got out of his car. Ricky drove away, feeling unhappy about having to do so. He wanted to stay with James. He wanted to hang out on the couch with him, maybe watch some sports, drink some beer...and maybe, after he was pleasantly buzzed and relaxed, lean over and do what he really wanted to do. Silently ask for James to kiss him, to really kiss him, not a gentle touching of lips but some real, full-blown making out. Lips and teeth and tongues, breaths mingling, swapping spit, trying to swallow each other's faces...

He shivered, aware of the press of an erection against the crotch of his pants. His cock was so hard that it hurt. He'd definitely have to masturbate as soon as he got home. Not that that was very fulfilling, but right now it was all that he had. If only he had more courage, but he was still too scared to make the first move. And James wouldn't make that move, because he was going at Ricky's pace and letting him decide when and how they would progress in their relationship. Ricky wished rather wistfully that he weren't so considerate; it would be nice to just be taken by storm. To not have to make any moves or decisions, to just let James take the lead...

He sighed. he supposed that he really wanted James to take charge because then he could blame the cop wholly for everything. He wouldn't have to admit, even to himself, that he'd 'turned gay', that he was a faggot now. No, it was all that horrible homosexual's fault! He seduced me! But it didn't work that way. This had nothing to do with James and everything to do with him. He was attracted to another man. That was all there was to it. He had to accept it, and decide whether he was ready to go farther than they had so far.   
Ricky had the sneaking suspicion that his dick might make the decision for him. Because it was becoming decidedly unruly over the fact that he was getting soft kisses from the guy he was attracted to, but nothing else. Being close to James and not getting anything other than those goodnight kisses...it was starting to drive him crazy. He wanted more, much more. But he had to overcome his fears if he wanted to get that 'much more'. 

 

He tossed and turned in bed that night, feeling restless and totally horny. His mind went back to that porn video he'd seen, the one that had had the bisexual guy who'd looked just like James in it. Visions of that man fucking the other guy relentlessly danced through his head, making his restlessness worse. 

He finally got up and went into the bathroom to jerk off again, feeling frustrated. He stared at his own haunted face in the mirror above the sink. He was scared of going any farther with James because the thought of taking it up the ass...it would hurt, wouldn't it? And be icky, and he'd be just like a woman...But if he could never get behind the idea of doing so, would he and James ever get any farther? And the cop would eventually become frustrated and irritated with him, and move on. He didn't want that. He definitely didn't want that! Even the thought of James being with another guy made his stomach clench inside of him in anger and distress. 

He realized suddenly that he HAD to talk to James about this. About his fears, and how they were holding him back. He knew that the cop would listen and understand, and maybe be able to give him some good advice. he weans a gay man, after all; he should be able to help a confused, budding bisexual.

He felt better immediately after coming to this decision. He cleaned himself up and went back to bed, and fell asleep quickly after that. He'd talk to James when he went over to his house tonight, and who knew what might happen afterward?

His dreams that night were intensely erotic, and every one of them involved a certain police officer. Well, actually, one of them involved both James and the porn star look-alike of him, both of them working dream-Ricky over until he was a shuddering pile of mush...

 

He awoke with a gasp, sitting up in bed covered in sweat. He groaned as he covered his face with his hands. Every night it got worse! If he didn’t do something soon, he was going to explode in his sleep. He was sure of it. He DEFINITELY had to talk to James today, whether he liked it or not..


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James gives Ricky a hand...

Ricky was feeling skittish as he walked up the front path to James' house. In fact, he wondered rather distantly if he wasn't going to start hyperventilating at any moment. His hands were shaking on the plastic Tupperware bowl he was holding, a bowl which held homemade potato salad that he'd made for them to share while they watched a football game tonight. Making the potato salad had helped to take his mind off of the fact that he was going to ask James about his not-so-little 'problem' tonight. He swallowed heavily as he walked up onto the porch, and the door swung open in front of him.

"Hey, Ricky," James said with a small smile. "Come on in."

He stepped into the house, and his voice was only a little squeaky as he said: "I made potato salad."

James looked at the Tupperware bowl. "Did you? That sounds good. I've got chips and beer, so we're set."

Ricky had to close his teeth on a slightly hysterical giggle. "Okay," he said, and went with James into the living room.

 

Later, as they sat on the couch watching the game, Ricky kept shooting his companion little sideways glances. He was trying to work up his courage enough to bring up the topic of sexual intimacy, but he just couldn't seem to do it. His tongue froze inside of his mouth every time he tried, and his breathing threatened to stop, too. He squirmed, cursing himself in his own head. 

"Ricky," James' voice made him jump about a foot in the air.

"Y-Yes?"

"Are you all right? You seem kind of worked up. What's the matter?"

The concern in James' voice touched him. And it helped to give him at least some courage. "I...I wanted to talk to you about something," he began anxiously.

James' brows lifted slightly. He studied Ricky's pale face. "What is it?" he turned toward Ricky, and his voice was calm and even. 

Ricky was starting to pant a little. Sweat had broken out on his brow. "I...I..." was it hot in here? His throat was threatening to close up. 

James reached out and took Ricky's hands in his own. "Listen to me, Ricky," he began in that same calm, soothing voice. "Take deep breaths. One, two, three. Now...say it clearly. Come on."

"I want more," Ricky said in a small voice, staring into James' eyes.

"More? More of what?"

"When you kiss me every time that I leave...that's cool, but I want...more."

"Let me see if I've got this straight," James said, never looking away from Ricky's eyes. "You like our 'goodnight' kisses, but you want something more than that? Is that right?"

"Yes," he squeaked on a thread of sound.

James' lips lifted in a slow smile. "All you had to do was ask," he said, and before Ricky could say anything else he leaned slowly forward.

Their lips met in a long, slow kiss that left Ricky moaning helplessly into James' mouth. A tongue glided inside, stroking over his in a way that made him shudder in James' embrace. He felt his muscles all turning to mush, and he half-fell against the cop. Hands ran over his shoulders and down his arms, and he seemed to feel that touch even through the fabric of his shirt. His chest heaved as James pulled back and looked into his eyes. "Was that more like what you wanted?"

He had to try to draw in enough breath to actually speak. "Yes," he said.

James smiled. "Do you want more?" he asked softly.

He could only nod helplessly. James took his lips again, and this kiss was even more devastating. Ricky was so lost in it that he missed the fact that a hand had drifted down the front of his shirt, until it slid between the buttons and fingers caressed lightly over the bare skin of his chest. He moaned into James' mouth, especially when those questing fingertips reached one of his nipples and lightly caressed over it. 

The cop pulled back enough to feather a string of kisses along his jaw, even as his fingertips closed lightly over Ricky's nipple and pinched it a little. He shivered, gasping. "I'm going to unbutton this now," James remarked against his ear, his fingers skimming over the front of the shirt. "Don't freak out, okay?"

Ten minutes ago he might have done that, but right now he simply didn't care. James' hands closed over the buttons and began to slip them open with careless skill, while Ricky struggled to breathe and watched helplessly as each one parted. When James pushed open the front of his shirt, he wondered dimly if he might start hyperventilating. James' broad hands settled in the middle of his bare chest, unmoving. He could see his own chest heaving under the long fingers. The cop's eyes rose to meet his. "You have a nice body, Ricky," he said quietly.

His tongue seemed to be trying to cleave to the roof of his mouth. "Do you want me to move my hands?" James asked him, still looking into his eyes.

He nodded a little, unable to speak. James slid his hands in caressing circles over Ricky's bare skin, and this touch set his over sensitized skin on fire. He panted desperately, wildly, as James' fingers found his nipples and his thumbs slid over the rucked peaks. Ricky arched his back, stunned by how good it felt to have his nipples touched. He'd never imagined that a man had such sensitive nipples, and the girls that he'd been with had never played with his during sex.

"James," he husked, not sure what he was trying to say but needing to articulate the cop's name. 

"Ricky," James replied. "Does this feel good?"

His hands slid down Ricky's bare chest, skimming over his shivering stomach. His fingers were skimming near the waistband of Ricky's pants, and he moaned as he imagined them venturing even lower. But then they stopped, and he whimpered in disappointment. "I won't go any further than this unless you tell me to, Ricky," James told him seriously. "I don't want to do anything that you don't want me to do. You have to tell me what you want."

His mouth opened and closed. How was he supposed to speak articulately at this point? But if he didn't, then James would leave him like this. He couldn't stand that! His cock felt like it was trying to bore a hole through his pants. If it wasn't freed, he was seriously afraid that it would explode. "P-Please," he stuttered, desperation spurring him on. "Please touch me, James. Please!"

"No begging necessary, Ricky," the cop said throatily. Then his fingers closed on the snap and the zipper, making short work of them.

Oh, God! Ricky shuddered and lifted his hips, as James' fingers eased the zipper down to reveal the bulge under white cotton. Fingertips skimmed over this bulge, making him cry out a little. Then James lifted the elastic waistband of his underwear and began to draw it down over the erection straining against it. He whimpered again, this time in relief, as his cock sprang free and lay there twitching and leaking in excitement.

"Looks like you have a problem here," James said. "Want me to take care of it for you?"

He nodded, hoping that James wouldn't make him beg again. The cop curled his fingers around Ricky's erection, using his thumb to caress the shaft. Ricky moaned, his head going back a little. James leaned forward and kissed his neck, now vulnerably exposed. Even as he nibbled at the cords standing out in Ricky's neck, his hand slid up to the tip of his cock and gathered the precum leaking from it to lubricate his fingers. Then he began to stroke Ricky's cock rhythmically, from base to tip, even as he began to suckle at the side of his neck.

Ricky was lost. James' hand felt so damn good! He felt overwhelmed by James, by his size and the smell of him and the feel of his lips gliding down his neck. Not to mention the pleasure he was experiencing from the hand sliding slickly up and down the length of him. He grabbed at James' shoulders and hung on for dear life, trembling at the conglomeration of sensations swamping him.

His hips had started to buck upward, driving himself into James' caressing hand. "Please," he whimpered into the cop's ear, desperate for the ultimate pleasure.

A low laugh, then James' lips reclaimed his in an eating kiss, even as the hand touching him tightened its grip and stroked him firmly from root to tip. He wailed into the lips covering his, jerking and thrashing as his cock began to spew its load all over James' hand. His mind went blank for a moment, lost in a sea of ecstasy. Then he slumped backward, spent, his body humming in satiated happiness. 

James released his lips, lightly licking at his bottom one as he eased back and away. He smiled down at the panting, sweaty, dazed-eyed Ricky, before he reached out and grabbed some tissue from the box on the coffee table to clean him up with. "I take it that was good enough?" he asked, still smiling as he wiped Ricky's skin clean. 

"Yeah," he husked. "That was really good."

"I'm glad that you liked it," James said, finishing his cleaning job. He got Ricky tucked back into his underwear, then zipped his pants back up for him. He leaned over to lightly kiss Ricky's lips once more, before he drew away and settled back in his seat on the couch. His hand reached out to stroke Ricky's thigh as he looked at the TV, where the football team was making a play. 

Ricky blinked. His mind was returning to him, and while his nervousness had pretty much dissipated, he was a little worried. He squirmed, sitting up slowly. "James?"

The hand on his thigh halted. "What is it?" the cop asked, not looking away from the TV screen. 

"I...What about...you?" Ricky asked uncertainly.

Now James glanced at him. "What about me?" he asked.

"Well..." Ricky's eyes dropped briefly to his lap, then skittered away. "Aren't you...don't you...?" 

"Oh," James said, enlightened. "Yes, I am and I do. But I don't expect you to 'help me out' this time, Ricky. You're not ready for it. It's nice that you've come far enough to let ME touch YOU, but I don't think that you could return the favor yet. Or am I wrong?"

Ricky tried to imagine touching James' cock, and felt a spurt of anxiety go through him. "I-I'd like to, but..." he began miserably.

The hand on his thigh moved in a petting motion. "Don't sweat it. We'll work you up to it, Ricky. You're really coming along; it shouldn't be too difficult to get you used to the idea soon. I can wait until then; it's all right."

Ricky felt a spurt of gratitude go through him. "Thank you, James," he breathed.

"Hey," the cop shot him a wry, affectionate smile, "What are boyfriends for?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ricky gets grilled by his mother about his 'girlfriend'...

Ricky awoke drowsily. He realized that his head was resting on something firm and warm. He opened his eyes, blinking a little, and saw that he had fallen asleep on James. They were still sitting on the couch, and the cop was still watching the TV. But his arm was around Ricky's shoulder, and Ricky could feel a thumb rubbing rhythmically over the fabric of shirt at the shoulder. Becoming aware that he was awake, the cop glanced over at him and smiled slightly. "Welcome back, Ricky."

He sat up, yawning. After James had touched him so wonderfully(even the thought of that made his cheeks heat a little), he'd suddenly felt rather tired. James had coaxed him into nestling against him, and Ricky had dozed off as they'd watched the football game together. Looking at the screen, he saw that the game was over. The evening news was just starting. "Who won?" he asked.

"The Steelers. You should head on home; you have to be at work in the morning," James told him.

"Yeah. Thanks for everything, umm..." he turned red as he realized how that sounded, after what had happened earlier.

James' lips twitched. "You're welcome. Come on; I'll walk you to the door," he began to steer Ricky toward his front door, his touch firm but gentle.

"Can I come over again tomorrow?" Ricky asked him.

"Of course. And well go and do something together this weekend. Sound good?"

He nodded. It really did. James opened the door for him, then turned and stepped toward him. The look in his eyes made Ricky's breath catch. "I need to give you your goodnight kiss, Ricky," he purred.

His mouth opened, and James took it in a deep kiss that left him addled and moaning into the cop's mouth. James firm, warm lips moved over his, and a tongue surged into his mouth. A hand cupped the back of his head to hold him in place. Ricky quivered and pushed closer to James, wanting to meld with him and become one person. 

The cop finally stepped back, leaving Ricky flushed and panting on his porch. "Goodnight, Ricky," he said, a little smirk on his lips. 

"G-Goodnight," Ricky rasped, barely able to speak. 

James waved him toward his car, and he managed to get his limbs to work well enough to walk away down the front path. Oh, God! That kiss! It made him want to run back up the path, hurl himself into James' strong arms, and let the other man ravish him. But no matter how strong that urge was, the lingering dregs of fear also remained. So he got into his car on shaky legs, and drove slowly home.

 

Ricky was looking forward to going to James' house. It made him rather breathless to imagine what might happen tonight! But when he drove home after work to change his clothes and collect some food to take over to James' place, his heart sank when he saw a familiar battered truck parked in his driveway, and the lean figure leaning against the side of the vehicle waiting for him. He pulled up and turned off his engine, getting out of his car only reluctantly. "Hi, Daddy," he said tensely.

Roger Raynes narrowed his eyes menacingly at his tone. "Why haven't you called your Momma, Ricky?" he growled. "She's worried about you. Won't stop nagging me."

Ricky swallowed heavily. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I haven't called her in a couple of weeks, but I've been so busy at my new job and everything..."

His father snorted. "Too busy to make time for your Momma? Even to call her? You're getting too big for your britches, boy," his voice lowered and took on an ugly note.

Ricky could feel himself shaking. "I'm r-really sorry, Sir," he stuttered.   
Roger glowered at him. "You can come to dinner tonight to make it up to her, boy," he rasped. 

His mouth opened to protest, but no sound came out. He had a date with James, but it wasn't as though he could tell his father that! Even imagining it made him break out in a cold sweat. "Okay," he said aloud. "I'll come."

A nod. "Be there by seven. I hate it when my dinner gets cold." Roger turned and climbed into his truck. He backed out of Ricky's driveway in a haze of engine smoke and squealing tires, and drove away down the street like he was racing the hillbilly version of the Indy 500. 

Ricky stood in his driveway and tried to get his racing heart to slow a little. He felt sick to his stomach. He pulled out his cell phone, and called James' number. "Hey, Ricky," he heard his boyfriend’s voice say.

"Hi, James. Umm...I can't come over tonight. I have to go to my parents' house for dinner, because my mom is worried about me," Ricky told him hesitantly. "Is that okay?"

"Of course it is," James replied soothingly. "You can still come over this weekend."

"Thank you," he breathed, feeling better already. 

"It’s no problem. I'll see you Saturday. Will you be all right, going over to your parents?" the cop asked, concern in his voice.

He drew in a shuddering breath. "Yeah. I'm used to it. I'll see you Saturday. Afternoon?"

"Sounds good. Take care of yourself, Ricky. Don't let your father get to you."

“I won't. See you later." he hung up the phone, grateful that James didn't seem upset that he couldn’t come over tonight. It was nice to be dating somebody who understood. A lot of the girls he'd dated hadn't; and if he tried to explain about how horrible his father was, they'd just think he was a pussy who wouldn't stand up to his father. A few had gotten it once they'd met Roger, but those meetings had only speeded up their breaking up with him. Not that Ricky could blame them. Who the hell wanted Roger Raynes as a father-in-law?

 

He knocked at the door of his parents' house, and his mother opened it. 

"Ricky," she said.

His gut tied itself into knots when he saw a fresh bruise on her right cheek. Seeing bruises on his mother always made him want to go and confront his father - but every time that he had in the past, he'd just gotten beaten to a pulp himself. Finally, his mother had begged him to stop trying to fight her husband over his abusive behavior. She was afraid that Roger would get really angry and kill her only child. And Ricky had reluctantly agreed, for her sake. But that didn't mean that it didn't still make him angry and sick whenever he saw her sporting a new bruise from his father's ready fists.

"Hi, Mom," he said through gritted teeth. 

"Come on in," she said, stepping back and swinging the door open. "Dinner's almost ready."

He stepped inside and followed her into the kitchen. She walked over to the pot bubbling on the stove top. "Sit down," she said over her shoulder, and he perched on a bar stool obediently.

"Why haven’t you called me lately, Ricky?" she asked as she stirred the pot.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I've just been super busy. But that's no excuse - I'll call you at least once a week from now on, I promise."

"You're such a good boy, Ricky," she replied as she turned away from the stove. He braced himself for the inevitable question. "So...are you seeing anybody?"

He didn't know how to answer this question. He WAS seeing someone, but it wasn't like he could tell his mother that. But before he could answer her anyway, she went on: "Because if you're not seeing anyone, Ricky, my friend Lila has a daughter who's single."

He felt horror race through him. His mother's friend Lila went to the same brimstone-and-fire church that his parents did, and she was like a female copy of Roger Raynes - only with breasts. The thought of what a girl raised by such a woman must be like made him shudder. "Actually, Mom, I AM seeing someone!" he said quickly. 

"Oh? Who is she? Tell me all about her!" his mother cried enthusiastically.

He began to panic. What was he supposed to say? If he told her that he'd lied, she'd want him to go out with her friend Lila's single daughter. But he just COULDN'T admit to her that he was dating another guy! His racing mind came up with a compromise. "I...err...I'm seeing a girl at work," he lied. "She and I just started going out, and it's been casual so far. We're just waiting to see where it's gonna go," the last half of this statement was completely true, even if the first half wasn't.

"That sounds good. What’s her name?"

More internal panic. "Jamie!" he finally blurted out. 

His mother shook her head disapprovingly. "I've never liked girls' names that sound so mannish," she said. 

"Yeah," he replied. 'But it's not like it's her fault. That’s just the name her parents gave her..."

"When are you going to bring her over to the house to meet us?" his mother asked next.

"I'm not sure. Like I said, we're going slow right now. It would be pretty weird to bring her to meet my parents when we've only been out on a few dates."

She sighed. "I suppose. I just hope that this one works out for you, Ricky. You don't seem to have any luck with girls."

"This time might be different, Mom," he said dryly. 'Really different', he added in his head, thinking of James. 

 

He was glad to get the hell out of there after dinner was over. He'd definitely remember to call his mother more often if it meant having to go over for dinner LESS often. And at least he had tomorrow with James to look forward to, even if he'd missed out on his date with James tonight. 

He sighed wearily as he climbed out of his car and walked slowly toward his house. Spending an evening with his parents was always such a trial! His father either only replied in grunts at dinner, or went on long, angry rants over whatever was pissing him off at the moment. His mother was so cowed by her husband that she seldom said much when he was around, and so Ricky never knew what to say either. Plus, he didn't want to say much anyway, lest he set his father off again. He could only compare tonight with the evenings he'd been spending with James lately, and they came up far short. Really far short! He was finally experiencing what it was like to spend time with a person who didn't yell, didn't scream, didn’t lash out; a person who didn't let his temper rule him and who wasn't half-drunk all the time. It was wonderful. James was wonderful. And he was starting to realize that he was a very, very lucky person indeed...


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their evening doesn't go as planned...

Ricky pulled his car up in front of James' house, feeling eager and hopeful. They were going to spend the entire day together, and who knew what might happen at any time? He reached out to scoop up the plastic bowl of potato salad from the seat beside him. James likes the way he made it, so every weekend so far he'd made it and brought it over to add to whatever meal they chose to eat. James had indicated that he might do a little grilling again today, if the weather was nice. A nice, juicy steak and some tasty potato salad would be great. 

He got out of his car and started up the walk. Some of the OTHER things that might be great were of a more intimate nature. His cheeks heated a little at this thought, and his body stirred to life. No matter how he might try to deny it, he couldn't wait to be touched by James again. Or...maybe a blow job? He shuddered a little at the mere thought of James' mouth on his dick, no matter how much his mind might rebel against the thought of letting another man put his mouth on his penis. All of his upbringing and religious teachings were telling him that even the thought was utterly wrong and sinful; but the rest of him just didn't give a shit by now.

He stepped up onto the porch and rapped at the door. After a moment, the door swung open. "Hey, James..." he began, then trailed off as he saw who had answered the door in place of the cop. 

Freddy stood in the door, staring at him. "Well, hello, again, Ricky," the other man said, his red lips curving a little in a smile of greeting. "What brings you here today?"

"Err...I..." Ricky stuttered helplessly, not sure what to say.

"Who is it, Freddy? Oh, Ricky, hi," James said, appearing in the little hallway behind his friend. "Come on in," he added." Join the party."

Freddy stepped back, and Ricky darted into the house. James' hand touched his elbow as Freddy turned around and led the way into the living room. "They just all showed up with no warning," James murmured into his hair. "Sorry."

"They..." Ricky began, but shut his mouth when he saw the rest of James' gay friends sitting on chairs and couches in the living room.

"Hey, Ricky!" Daniel called to him with a smile and a wave. "Hi! We all came over to surprise James today and see how he's doing. We even brought lunch for everybody. What are you doing here?"

Ricky just stood there, not knowing what to say. James replied for him. "Ricky comes and hangs out with me on the weekends sometimes," he said. "We watch football games together. Because, unlike you guys, he actually LIKES sports," he went on dryly. 

Colin snorted. "Argh, why do you have to be so much like a straight guy, James? It'd be better if you liked antiquing, or anything less violent and testosterone-laden than football."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Colin," James said dryly. 

Daniel laughed. "Well, at least James has a friend willing to watch that kind of stuff with him," he remarked heartily. "So that we don't have to. Anyway, welcome, Ricky."

"Thank you," he mumbled, feeling disappointment lash through him. He'd SO been looking forward to a quiet day alone with James, and now...

"Anyway, sit down and let's get lunch set out," Daniel said in his slightly bossy way.

Ricky handed over the bowl of potato salad, which was well-received. James steered him over to the couch where they always sat together to watch football games, and the cop's face was sympathetic. It was nice to know that he was feeling disappointed about this turn of events, as well. He sighed as he plumped down on the couch, watching as Freddy and company produced a large wicker basket covered with a checked gingham cloth from the kitchen.

They got the basket settled on the cleared-off coffee table, and Freddy whisked off the cloth. He began to produce innumerable things from within: two plates of crispy fried chicken that looked and smelled delicious; a plate of various kinds of cheese slices; cut-up fresh fruit, a large tub of coleslaw, and a container of fruit salad. He also pulled out plastic plates, silverware, and glasses. Last but not least, he produced two bottles of red wine and two of apple cider. "We brought everything we need, pre-packed," he remarked. "I know a deli that will pack any size meal for a good price. Really good food, too. You'll all love it, my dears, I swear."

"It looks good," Nathan said, sniffing appreciatively. 

Freddy grinned as he pulled out a corkscrew and started to open the bottles of wine. "A meal fit for kings," he said in satisfaction. "Or...queens," he went on slyly. 

Laughter. Even Ricky chuckled. He accepted a plate brimming with good food, a glass of wine(which made him silently grimace; he didn't like wine), and also accepted the fact that his day alone with James had gone up in smoke. 

 

 

An hour later, he decided that this wasn't all bad. The food was delicious, the wine tolerable(it got more tolerable the more he drank of it), and the conversation lively and full of laughter. He was gently teased about being the only straight male in the room, but no one said anything nasty. In fact, he was treated with kindness, as though he was just one of the (gay) boys. He got to feel the warmth of James' body next to him, and the cop's right hand occasionally stroked secretly over his thigh or side. While this was very nice, it was also working him up more than a bit. Which was VERY uncomfortable, because he had to fight not to squirm on the couch visibly, and attract the attention of the other people in the room. 

Freddy was saying to James: "Listen, my dear. Hear me out! I’ve met the nicest boy, and I think he would be prefect for you!"

Ricky felt himself stiffening. Well, the rest of him was stiffening, anyway. James said placidly: "Sorry, Freddy, not interested."

"Oh, come on! When's the last time that you went on a date, James? You were not meant to be a monk, James!" Freddy protested.

"First of all, I'm not a monk. Second of all, I can't forget the last time that you set me up on a blind date," James replied dryly. 

"That was just a fluke!" Freddy protested, waving his hands.

Daniel shook his head. "We all remember that, Freddy," he chided. "The kid wanted James to do a three-way with him and his daddy-man, in lieu of a first date."

"Hey, he didn't tell ME that he had a daddy-man, okay?" Freddy said weakly. "But this time it will be different, I swear."

"No, it won't. Because I'm not going on a blind date," James trailed off, then seemed to shrug internally. "Besides, I'm already seeing someone anyway."

Shocked silence, as they all gaped at him. Even Ricky. James face was bland. "What? Who? When?!" Freddy spluttered into the silence.

James reached out his hand deliberately and set it on Ricky's leg. "Ricky and I are dating," he said quietly but firmly.

More shocked silence, more wide-eyed gaping. Ricky didn't know what to do or say. Freddy recovered first, though his voice was decidedly shaken. "You're dating...Ricky?! But I thought..."

"Yes, he was straight," James replied calmly. "Totally straight. But we started spending a lot of time together, and it just sort of...happened. He confessed that he was attracted to me, and since I was also attracted to him, we started dating. We've been together for a little over a month now."

"So I guess you decided to a be a bisexual, after all," Daniel said to Ricky with a smile. He seemed the least shocked of the group. "Although, considering the fact that it's James, I can totally see why you jumped the fence," he winked at Ricky, who found himself taking in a shaky breath. 

"This is unbelievable," Freddy said. "To think that a person like Ragin' Ricky Raynes would decided to date another guy..."

Gasps from several people in the room. Ricky's face flushed and his shoulders stiffened, as Freddy shut his mouth with a snap and looked horrified at what he'd just said. He cast an embarrassed, apologetic look at Ricky, who felt cold as the other men reacted to his former identity.

"You're...You're...oh, my God, you're that horrible man from the radio?!" Daniel yelped, looking stunned. "The one who says all of those terrible things about gay people?! Didn't you say once that we should all be rounded up and put into concentration camps?!"

Ricky's face flamed in shame. He dropped his eyes to the floor. “Yes," he said miserably. "That was me."

The silence that descended this time was cold and full of anger and outrage. Ricky awaited the first verbal blow, cringing. It wasn’t as though he didn't deserve it...

James broke the silence. "Let me explain everything, guys, before you start to tear into Ricky," he began seriously. "Hear me out, then say whatever you have to say. For me. Please?"

More silence. Then: "All right, James. For you. Tell us everything," Daniel said quietly, his voice neutral.

 

So the cop did. He quietly but concisely told his friends the whole story: How he'd saved the life of the nasty bigot shock jock Ragin' Ricky Raynes, how that same man had come to the hospital full of remorse and had confessed who he was, and how Ricky had begun to turn his life around from that day forward. How he'd gotten another job after promptly quitting his horrible show, how he’d begun to hang out with the man who'd saved his life so that he could learn all about real gay people, and how, over time, he'd begun to develop feelings for that same man. 

As the end of his story, James said gravely: "Can you guys imagine what strength of will and courage it took for Ricky to admit that he's attracted to another man, let alone to date one, after his childhood? He has guts, and he's changed his life for the better. I hope that'll count with you all."

Ricky was stunned. He'd never thought about the fact that what he’d done was courageous; he didn't for one moment think that he had any courage at all. After all, wasn't he the coward that had gotten James shot in the bank that day? He blinked as the other men looked at one another. 

Daniel stirred. "Thanks for telling us all of that, James," he said. "The truth is, I've always liked Ricky. It doesn’t really seem possible to bring the two of them together - the guy we first met at the hospital, and that awful man on the radio. But I'm willing to believe that the real Ricky is the one who hung out with us today, who's been nothing but sweet, who's never treated any of us like 'abominations'," Ricky winced when he said that word, and hung his head. He'd used it often enough on the air. "I guess I can understand how he could be brainwashed by his parents into believing that gay people are evil, with what you told us about his father. And it matters a lot that you're willing to date him, James - because I know that you'd NEVER date someone like Ragin' Ricky Raynes. You have better taste than that. So if you like him, then we all do. Right, guys?"

Murmurs of agreement swept the living room, as Ricky lifted his head and stared in amazement at the gay men all looking at him. They were smiling, their eyes held acceptance and understanding, he wasn’t about to be attacked or screamed at even though he deserved those things...He couldn't help himself. He burst into tears, sobbing noisily, his shoulders heaving.   
James' arms came around him, and pulled him in close. He could only cry helplessly, stunned by the kindness and forgiveness being shown to him by these men who had every right to hate him. He didn't deserve this, but he was very, very happy to get it. He really was completely, utterly lucky. And he'd never forget that fact ever again.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky turns out to be a natural...

Strong arms held him close and cradled him as he wept. He distantly heard a voice saying discretely: "We're just going to get going, James. We'll see you later."

There were the general sounds of departure, and soon the sounds of his sobs were the only things in the silent room. And they were starting to trail off, as he began to recover from his bout of over emotionalism. James' arms rocked him, and a mouth was pressed into his hair. "It's all right, Ricky," James said softly into his ear. "It's okay. Let it all out."

He did. Finally he was spent; lying in James' arms limply, his head on James' shoulder. "I'm sorry," he mumbled hoarsely. 

"For what?" the cop asked him above his head.

He raised his head, blinking stickily to clear his eyes of the remnants of his tears. He sniffled. "For losing it," he said.

James shook his head. "Everybody loses it once in awhile," he pointed out, as he reached up to run his thumb under Ricky's eyes to gather up the moisture there. "There’s no shame in it."

He sighed wearily. "Everybody was just so...nice," he murmured.

James chuckled softly. "Contrary to popular opinion, Ricky, gays don't eat babies for breakfast or cause tornadoes. Most of us aren't evil, really we're not."

"I know that," Ricky said indignantly. 

James' lips lifted in a smile. He leaned forward and kissed Ricky softly on the mouth. "You're too cute like this, you know that?" he said when he pulled back again. 

Ricky's brows drew together. "What do you mean?"

James shook his head. "Never mind."

Ricky became aware of the fact that the two of them were alone in the house. James' strong body was so close to his, so near...suddenly he felt a surge of lust so strong that it took his breath away. He found himself leaning forward, wanting to be closer to James. 

"Ricky?" he heard the cop say above his head. He didn’t answer. His breath ghosted over the cop's throat, and he saw James swallow heavily. He leaned forward more, and set his lips to the pulse pounding in that throat.  
James didn't move. He seemed aware that it wouldn't be wise, that he should just let Ricky do whatever he wanted to. Ricky's hands moved to catch the edge of the t-shirt that James was wearing, and he began to draw it upward. James cooperated, lifting his arms passively so that Ricky could pull the shirt off of him completely.

His chest was broad and fairly well-muscled, with a scattering of dark hair. It wasn't a girls' torso, no breasts or smooth skin, but the sight of it still made his breath catch. He licked at his lips, hungrily. Then his eyes lighted on the puckered pink scar on the lower right-hand side, and he gasped as he realized that this was the scar where the bullet had gone in. The bullet that James had taken to save Ricky's life. He whimpered deep in his throat, reaching out to run his fingers over that puckered pink ridge of tissue. His throat was threatening to close up. "My fault," he whispered forlornly.

James' fingers closed over his and drew them away from the scar. "It's all right, Ricky," he said. "I'm alive, and more importantly, you're alive, too. Which you wouldn't have been if I hadn't acted in the bank. I'll take a little scar over you dying, any day."

His eyes prickled with unshed tears. "James," he said hoarsely. Then he set both of his hands in the middle of that broad, strong chest. "Can I...touch you?" he asked, belatedly.

James chuckled softly. "I'd like nothing more than for you to touch me, in any way that you want, Ricky," he assured his boyfriend. 

He nodded. His eyes focused on his hands, and he began to run them over that bronzed skin. He felt the hard muscles underneath, and the prickle of the coarse hair under his fingers. He was nearly holding his breath. Touching James wasn't like touching anyone else that he'd ever been with - and not just because James was male, not female. He was so excited he could barely breathe. Reaching a flat male nipple, he heard a sharply indrawn breath as his fingers ghosted over it. 

Remembering how good it had felt when James had touched his nipples a few days ago, Ricky used his fingertips and thumb to gently stimulate one of James' nipples. The cop made a low sound in the back of his throat. "Does that feel good?" he asked. 

"Really good," James husked.

Ricky smiled. He liked this. He liked making James feel good. He let his hands slide down, lower, toward the top of the jeans that James was wearing. His fingers were shaking as he went to work on the buckle; he was pretty nervous. But he was also determined. He was tired of being afraid. James was his boyfriend. This was what boyfriends did. He wanted to make James feel better and better. So he managed to get the buckle undone, and his trembling fingers pulled down the zipper on the jeans.

He revealed a pair of dark-blue boxers, with a heavy mound under the fabric. He stared at it, licking at his lips again. That was James' cock. He'd made it that way, with his touches. He felt proud and victorious, and he lifted his eyes to James'. "Stand up," he said hoarsely. "And take off your pants."

At this command, James' eyebrows shot up. But he also stood up immediately, and pushed his jeans and the boxers down off of his hips. Ricky felt his breathing falter as they slid away to reveal the first ever erect cock that he'd seen that wasn't his own or in a porn video. It was heavy-looking and sturdy, nestled in dark pubic hair over a substantial set of balls. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it. He'd made it this way, and he was causing the little twitches that made it jerk upward a bit as he stared at it. He reached out, blindly, wanting to feel it in his hand. He cupped it, and it felt like velvet over steel under his fingers and against his palm. He felt dizzy from lack of breath, and hauled in a shuddering gasp of air as he cradled his boyfriend's erect cock for the very first time.

He wasn't put off or scared. He'd worried that he might be, since he'd been straight up until now. But this was James. Any other guy's cock would have repulsed him, but not this one. This was just a part of the man that he...oh, God, he wasn’t even going to think that thought just yet. Instead he moved his hand a little, wanting to touch and to stroke. He heard a harsh breath being drawn above his head, as James appreciated his actions.

Now he was using both hands, fascinated by the feel of the cock jerking and twitching in his grip. His thumbs caressed over the head, which was leaking fluids heavily. Suddenly he had an urge so strong that he couldn’t deny it or shove it away, and he bent his head before he could even think of reasons why he shouldn’t do it. He extended his tongue, and licked at the tip of James' cock very lightly. 

"Ricky," he heard his boyfriend groan in disbelieving pleasure above his head. He smiled secretly, like a satisfied cat. Hadn't expected that, had he? 

Of course not, not from his jumpy, formerly straight boyfriend. Ricky felt a surge of excitement at being able to shock James like this. With a sigh, he bent over and opened his mouth. He wasn't afraid, not in the least. Just nearly dizzy with excitement over doing the forbidden. 

It was in his mouth! The head of it was, anyway. It felt slick and hard on his tongue, and his lips had to stretch around it. His hands cradled the shaft, and he tasted the fluids on his tongue. He wanted to bob his head, to take it in further, but he already felt his gag reflex trying to kick in. He didn't want to choke on it; if he did the first time he tried, he might not ever want to do it again. 

A sudden memory from a porno invaded his head. He knew exactly what to do then. He maneuvered the cock head sideways into his cheek, away from the back of his mouth. Now James would be able to push into his mouth and he wouldn't be in danger of gagging or choking. Now he could move his head awkwardly up and down, remembering blow jobs that his girlfriends had given him in the past. He felt fingers tangle in his hair, petting, though James said nothing in protest. he probably didn't want to break whatever spell that Ricky had fallen under that was making him do something he never would have before. 

He fell into a trance, sliding his lips up and down the cock sinking into his cheek. It tasted so good, so right, in his mouth. He held the base lovingly in his hands, cradling it, while his mouth adored it. Fluids leaked over his tongue, and he swallowed in the back of his throat. He moaned, lowly, loving everything about this. He was a natural cock hound, something he was discovering about himself. He loved crouching in front of James, taking the length of hard flesh in, laving it with his tongue instinctively, licking and sucking. He loved the sounds that James made above his head, the way the fingers tightened in his hair, the instinctive shoves as James pushed himself forward into the welcoming mouth in front of him. 

Then it was all over. James groaned loudly, and the cock in his mouth jerked and twitched on his tongue as it spurted. Ricky shuddered, feeling like he was going to come in his own pants right here and now just from sucking James' cock. He swallowed greedily, taking in all of that thick seed, letting it flow down his throat. 

He fell back, licking his lips like a cat, staring up in a dazed fashion at James' handsome face above him. The cop's eyelids were lowered, and his mouth was slightly open. His fingers stroked over Ricky’s chin gently. "Well," he remarked on a growl. "That was unexpected."

Ricky couldn't speak. James leaned down and pulled him to his feet, and then James' mouth was on his. The cop kissed him hungrily, tasting his own fluids on Ricky's tongue. Ricky moaned and clung to him, still not fully coming down from the high he'd been on when he'd sucked James' cock.   
Then the cop pushed him away, and before he could protest James knelt down in front of him and went to work on the front of his pants. 

Ricky groaned as James pulled his cock roughly out of his underwear. The cop's eyes were hot as he went down on it, taking it in, creating suction. Ricky cried out, shuddering, watching as his lover sucked at him expertly. Oh, God, it felt so good! James' mouth was hot and wet, taking him in so tightly. His cock was already almost ready to burst after the blow job he'd given James. He rocked his hips, sinking his cock into James' mouth, shaking as he felt his balls drawing up. Then he was coming, crying out deliriously, flooding James' mouth with his semen. His legs threatened to buckle, and he felt strong arms catch him up and hold him as the aftershocks of his orgasm sparked through him in a glorious rush.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky's feeling certain urges...

A dazed Ricky came back to himself a short time later, and found himself sitting on the couch draped against James’ solid, strong body. He lifted his head from the cop’s shoulder, blinking a little. What…? Then it all came back to him. James’ friends finding out about who he’d been, their kind forgiveness, his spate of tears…and then…and then…he’d…

His face turned crimson, and he moaned a little in the back of his throat. He could remember clearly taking James’ cock into his mouth, how he’d relished each moment and eagerly swallowed the other man’s seed like the most lascivious of whores. Oh, God, he was turning into such a slut! A gay slut! He buried his face in his hands, as James said: “What’s the matter, Ricky?”

He shook his head silently, unable to answer. James’ hands settled on his shoulders, kneading the muscles lightly. “Is this about the blow job you gave me?” the cop asked him softly.

He moaned again. “For what it’s worth, that’s the best one I’ve ever had,” the cop said sincerely.

He lifted his head from his hands, turning it so that he could peer at James’ face out of the corner of his eye. “It was?” he asked, feeling a shy pleasure at this praise.

James nodded. “It was amazing,” he affirmed. “I never expected somebody who barely knows anything about it to be able to do that. You’re a natural, Ricky, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Unless you never intended to give me a blow job, just let me do it to you?” he asked.

Ricky shook his head quickly. “No!” he cried. “That would be so selfish…I couldn’t do that…”

James smiled and reached out to lightly run his finger along Ricky’s lower lip. “You see? Even if you hadn’t turned out to be a natural, you still would have had to learn to do it sometime. And isn’t it better that you can do it so easily? Beginners often have a lot of trouble learning to give good blow jobs.”

Distracted by the feel of that finger moving on his lip, Ricky asked: “Did you?”

James nodded. “At first, yeah. I kept trying to choke. It wasn’t very pleasant. But I kept at it, because I wanted to learn to do it right. I’d have given a lot to be able to just do it like you did, and to enjoy it as much as you did, too…” his eyes gleamed, and Ricky flushed again. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Ricky. It’s good to like what you’re doing, especially if it’s something sexual. It makes both you and your partner feel good, and what’s the harm in that? I was so turned on by how excited you were that I had trouble stopping myself from coming right away.”

“You were?” He liked the sound of that. 

“Yeah. You were so sexy, kneeling there in front of me. I couldn’t get enough of it.”

Ricky found himself relaxing back into James’ strong arms. If his boyfriend had liked what he’d done, he decided that he didn’t care about becoming a gay slut. After all, he was only going to be a slut for James. And he liked the thought of being a slut for his sexy, wonderful boyfriend. He liked it a lot. “We could maybe try that again soon,” he murmured, trying to conceal the eagerness in his voice. All he wanted was to have James’ cock in his mouth again as soon as possible.

“We sure can,” James agreed, kissing his forehead. “Anytime you want, Ricky.”

“Cool.”

 

Ricky glanced around the sports bar, feeling very nervous. James had brought him to a cop bar to hang out with his fellow officers, who were mostly pretty good about his being gay. He’d introduced Ricky as his boyfriend, which had made him flinch and want to hide behind James when all eyes settled on him. He felt like they were all judging him silently. But much to his surprise, one of them came forward to take his hand and shake it,. “Nice to meet you, Ricky,” he said. “Jimmy’s never brought one of his guys here before. He must be really serious about you.”

Ricky felt color swarm up in his cheekbones. He looked rather wildly over at James, who smiled slightly. “I think I might be, Carl,” he agreed quietly. “This one’s special.”

“Good job, man,” Carl said with a grin. “Anyway, you guys come and have a drink with us, okay?”

So that was how he found himself seated in a booth next to James, with at least five other cops stuffed into the same booth. They were elbowing and teasing each other, and laughing raucously. Carl yelled over the loud talk: “So, what do you do, Ricky?”

“Oh. I’m a DJ on the radio!” he yelled back.

“Yeah? What’s that like?”

“It’s awesome!” he cried, as the other cops all turned their attention to him. “I love it.”

Carl raised his beer glass. “That’s great. You should always love what you do.”

“Do you guys love what you do?” Ricky asked.  
“Sure. Wouldn’t so it if we didn’t since the pay’s not great and it can be really dangerous.”

“I know,” Ricky said, leaning forward urgently. “That’s why I don’t get it!” he added passionately. “You guys could get shot! James got shot!”

Carl shrugged. “That’s just the chance you take,” he said coolly. “Right, Jimmy?”

“Right,” James agreed calmly. 

Ricky felt frustrated and puzzled. ‘But don’t any of you ever get scared?” he asked.

They exchanged glances. Another of them, a guy named Frank, said slowly: “Of course. But you can’t let that get in the way. Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to do the job anymore.”

“But why do you do it?” Ricky said. “Why do you love it so much?”

From the perplexed looks he was getting, most of them didn’t know how to answer this question. They didn’t think about WHY they loved being cops; they just did.

James elbowed him a little. “I told you, Ricky, we have this need to protect people,” he said. “If this were the Middle Ages we’d all be knights. We can’t help ourselves; it’s just instinctual.”

“Knights,” mused Carl thoughtfully. “I kinda like the sound of that. I’d love to hit people with big swords.”

“You mean like some of the nastier of the perps?” Frank commented dryly.   
“Yeah, that sounds great.”

Ricky fought back a giggle at the image of a bunch of uniformed cops hitting people with swords. James draped a casual arm around his shoulders, and he found himself relaxing in a way he never would have imagined doing, in a cop bar surrounded by heterosexual people all seeing him with another man’s arm around him. The cops’ easy acceptance of him and James was amazing but wonderful. And it helped to make it easier for him to accept them, because if a bunch of macho cops was okay with him being gay, then how could he himself have a problem with it?

 

They trailed into James’ house after ten. Ricky was feeling a little bit buzzed from too much beer and lots of camaraderie alike. “I like your fellow cops,” he told James.

A laugh. “Thought you might. Not all of them are okay with me, but the ones who are don’t give a shit that I’m gay. As long as I watch their backs, they’ll watch mine.”

“That’s good,” Ricky said, nodding. “I want people to watch your back. Don’t want anything to happen to you…” he added.

“I can’t guarantee that anything won’t, but I’ll do my very best to stay safe,” James assured him.

Suddenly, strong arms slid around him. A nose nuzzled the back of his neck. Ricky’s body came alive, as James’ voice purred in his ear. “What do you want to do now, Ricky?”

Oh, he could think of all KINDS of things he’d like to do now. “We could maybe watch some TV,” James added, licking lightly at his ear.

He moaned breathily, arching backward into those insouciant, exploring hands and the hot mouth sliding over his skin. “Or…” the cop went on, his voice lowering and turning husky, “We could skip TV and do something else completely.” His hand settled on Ricky’s groin, and he turned in James’ arms. Their mouths met hungrily, and Ricky knew dimly that he was really going to like the end of this date…

 

Ricky was practically humming to himself as he walked into work the next day. He was thinking about last night in James’ living room, when he’d sunk dizzily to his knees and had a repeat performance of that first blow job. That had been so good! He’d worshipped James’ cock, had taken his time loving and petting and sucking it. James had let him do whatever he’d wanted to, only moaning encouragement once in awhile. When he’d finally come in Ricky’s mouth, he’d been in such a daze that he’d been unable to stand. But James had solved his problem by draping Ricky over the couch and going to town on his dick. Somewhere in the middle of that, a spit slick finger had slid into his ass and had moved in and out. Normally that would have disturbed Ricky, but by then he just didn’t care. Especially since it felt so damn good, anyway. He’d come so hard he’d almost blacked out. 

Thinking about that finger, Ricky settled in his chair and put on his headset. He gave his tech a thumbs up gesture, to tell the man that he was ready to go on the air. He knew that eventually something bigger than that finger was going to go…in his ass. James’ cock, to be exact. But instead of making him feel nervous or disgusted, this thought kind of excited him, instead. He loved having James’ cock in his mouth. It’d probably feel just as good or better inside of his ass. He wanted to feel what that was like. 

The music kicked up, signaling the beginning of his shift. He tore his mind away from the distraction of gay sex, deciding that he’d talk to James about it. Maybe tonight. If not tonight, then soon...


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James teaches Ricky about the pleasures of the flesh...

Ricky kept giving him sideways glances, and then his eyes would dart shyly away again. James considered this for a bit, then he spoke up casually: “Ricky?”

The other man actually jumped. “Y-Yeah?”

The cop replied: “Why are you so nervous tonight? Did something happen?”

Ricky shook his head quickly. “Oh, no, no! It’s just that…” he trailed off and turned crimson. “I was t-thinking…” he said helplessly. 

James studied his face. “Thinking? About what?”

Ricky cleared his throat, while his hands began to twine together in his lap. “About h-how we should…you and I…”

“Yes?” James said patiently.

Ricky’s eyes dropped to his hands, and his shoulders tensed. “Ummm…have sex…” he nearly whispered. 

Oh. James felt a lazy sense of satisfaction envelope him. He would never have imagined that someone as jumpy as Ricky would go for the idea of having sex together so early in his first ever gay relationship. Although he supposed part of it was how easily Ricky had taken to giving head. He loved doing that; James could see it in his lust-glazed eyes when Ricky was sucking his cock. To have such an easy, pain and worry free experience with giving blow jobs was probably encouraging Ricky to think about what other things that he and James could do together that would feel good, too. His hand began to stroke Ricky’s shoulder comfortingly as he said: “I’d love to have sex with you, Ricky. But you know it’s completely up to you when and where. I’ll never push you into anything you’re not ready to do.”

“I know that,” Ricky replied, flashing him those big trusting doe-eyes that attracted James so strongly. “That’s why I…want to…”

James nodded, using his free hand to lift Ricky’s chin so that their eyes met again. “If that’s what you want, we’ll try it, Ricky. But if at any time you start to freak out, you tell me and we’ll stop. Okay?” 

Ricky nodded, his eyes round with fear but also with wanting. James smiled and leaned forward to kiss him, to claim Ricky’s lips in a long, tender wanting kiss that left Ricky a limp mass in his arms. His lips were swollen and his cheeks were flushed when James pulled back, and his eyes were limpid pools of need. James groaned in the back of his throat and began to lay tender kisses all over Ricky’s face and neck. He buried his nose in that soft skin, taking in the smell of it, as his tongue lapped at one of Ricky’s clavicles. 

Ricky moaned so breathily, so sweetly for him. James roughly peeled the shirt that Ricky was wearing over his head, tossing it away onto the couch beside him. He ran his hands over Ricky’s torso, letting his fingers glide over a pair of dark-pink nipples already excited and begging for his touch. Ricky arched for him, and James bent his head to suckle at one of those nipples instead. He bit gently at it, and Ricky whimpered ion the back of his throat and thrust up off the couch into James’ touch. 

His hands found the fastenings of the jeans that Ricky was wearing, and James quickly got the snap undone and the zipper pulled down. Ricky was panting, watching him, his eyes lust-glazed and eager. James loved the fact that Ricky was so responsive to every little touch. It turned him on immensely, and he had to stop for a second and hurriedly undo his own jeans, as the pain at his crotch was becoming unbearable at this point.   
He started to turn back to Ricky, but before he could a long-fingered hand reached into the opening in his jeans and wormed his cock out into the open air. James groaned, his head going back, as Ricky petted him lovingly, his eyes fastened on James’ cock as he swallowed heavily. James realized that Ricky was already in full-on ‘super cock hound’ mode, and when a pink tongue darted out to trace his bottom lip, James felt like he might blow at any moment.

He gently disengaged Ricky’s hand, and before he could protest James pushed him back on the couch and proceeded to rip the rest of the clothes off of his body. His hands were everywhere, tracing Ricky’s skin, sliding through the little patches of silky/rough hair on his chest, cupping his tender ball sac, gilding down his thighs. The only thing he didn’t touch was Ricky’s twitching, drooling, penis, jutting upward from his pubic hair eagerly. Ricky began to make pleading sounds, his hips rocking. James ignored him for the moment, intent on working up every single nerve in Ricky’s body before he touched that excitedly twitching length again.  
James spread Ricky’s legs wide and knelt between them on the floor. He leaned over, his eyes never leaving Ricky’s dazed ones, and licked a trail down the other man’s abdomen toward his groin. Ricky arched and cried out, his hands spasming, as James’ tongue lapped at his pubic hair then darted out to lick at the soft, wrinkled skin of his ball sac.

“James!” he wailed, in pleasurable and pained protest combined. “Please!”

Tonguing Ricky’s balls in their sac, James smirked. But he couldn’t let Ricky suffer any longer; his tongue traced up the underside of Ricky’s shaft, and his mouth enveloped Ricky in hot, wet, sucking pleasure as Ricky wailed again and thrust upward. 

 

James diverted briefly to suck on one of his own fingers. Then he returned to sucking on Ricky’s eager cock, while reaching down to thrust his wettened finger into Ricky’s tight ass at the same time. He fingered Ricky with slow, sure pushes, while continuing his assault on the cock in his mouth. Ricky began to lurch and tremble, and soon semen flowed over his tongue in a long burst as his lover came in his mouth.

James looked up as he licked the trace remnants of Ricky’s come from his lips. The other man lay back on the couch unmoving, an annihilated mass after his orgasm. James didn’t pull his finger out - instead, he gently added another one, and continued to finger Ricky as he came down from his high. He heard a low moan, and knew that his attentions weren’t unwelcome. Even though he was sensitive after coming, Ricky didn’t mind the fingers buried inside of him. 

James continued his slow, leisurely prep of Ricky’s body, opening him up in increments. After a bit, Ricky began to move his hips a little. He was trying to thrust downward, to take in more of the fingers. Obviously he liked the sensation of having them inside of him. James smiled and lapped at the inside of Ricky’s thigh, like a cat with a bowl of cream. Only the little sounds that Ricky was making broke the silence in the living room, and James treasured each and every one of them. He rotated his fingers and heard a muffled whine, a pleading sound. 

He transferred his mouth to Ricky’s left testicle, and began to suck on it softly. Ricky cried out, then humped upward wildly when James’ burrowing fingers found the small lump inside of him that was his prostate gland. He squealed and bucked, shuddering, an astonished cry ripped from his lips. James’ eyes gleamed - introducing a man to the wonders of that little gland was always fun. He rubbed his fingertips over it firmly, and Ricky went wild under him.

“James!” he cried, his hands finding the top of his lover’s head and pressing down on it, “Oh, James!”

James began to suck on his other testicle, while going back to thrusting his fingers in-and-out of Ricky’s loosening hole. He couldn’t help but notice that the cock that had lain spent and limp on Ricky’s tummy only a few minutes ago was now jerking back into hardness, pre-come drooling from the tip. He lapped at the tight ball in his mouth, loving Ricky’s frantic noises, enjoying this slow, leisurely preparation for what he hoped would be a fabulous first time for Ricky. 

 

Finally, Ricky himself couldn’t stand it any longer. He tugged at James’ close-cropped hair urgently. “Please, please, please,” he chanted desperately.  
James pulled his fingers free at last. He got nimbly to his feet, looking down on the man lying sprawled on his couch. “I’ll be back in a second, Ricky,” he said quickly, just before he left the room.

Ricky blinked a little, his brain completely out-of-whack. He barely registered that James had left the room at first, but then emptiness in his ass and the lack of stimulation on his cock and balls made him whimper. What had happened?! He’d been feeling so good, and James fingers had been touching a magical place inside of him that had made supernovas go off behind his eyes, and now it was all gone. All gone. His cock was aching, his body was trembling, and he panted wildly. How could James desert him like this?!

Before he could force himself to move, to even sit up, James came back as swiftly as he’d left. He held several items in his hands, and Ricky could just make out the flash of light on a silver foil packet and a small bottle. James stood over him and bent down to shove these articles into his shaking hands. “Hold onto those for a second,” the cop growled, and then stood up and began to take his own clothes off as quickly as he could.

Ricky gazed up at him as James bared his strong, hard body. He licked at his lips hungrily, instinctively, as he saw all of those rippling muscles and that coarse dark body hair and the flat male nipples. And that cock, that magnificent cock, that he loved so much! He mewled, wanting it in his mouth. Then he gasped, because a now naked James straddled his naked body on the couch and took the lube and condom back out of his hands. He leant over and kissed Ricky thoroughly, taking his mouth, thrusting his tongue in deeply. Ricky clutched at his bare back, his fingers closing in the firm flesh. He made little sounds into James’ mouth as the cop fucked Ricky’s mouth with his thick tongue. 

James finally pulled back, and Ricky heaved in great breaths of air as the cop slid backward and stood up. He opened the foil packet and slid the condom onto his cock as Ricky watched helplessly from the couch, then opened the bottle of lube and spread a generous amount on the latex. He grimaced at the feel of his own hand moving on himself. He then reached down and took a hold of Ricky’s hand with his clean one, and pulled him up into a sitting position. Then he began to maneuver Ricky(who could barely move on his own) until he was on all fours on the seat cushions with his hands gripping the back tightly. “Hold on,” James told him quietly from behind his back. 

Ricky gripped at the fabric with what little strength he had left. Hands spread his buttocks, and he gasped as a slick finger was thrust back into him again. He moaned and rocked his hips as James pushed two fingers in-and-out of him. His ass swayed, and his head came to rest on the back of the couch. The ring was being widened and stretched by those slick fingers, and Ricky twitched and swayed. So good, so good! 

Then he felt something much larger coming to rest on his asshole. It rubbed at the sensitive, wrinkled flesh, and he moaned as the slick head of James’ penis slid over and around the ring until it suddenly breeched the opening. He groaned, stiffening a little, but it didn’t really hurt much at all. It burned a bit, but somehow it felt so right that he didn’t much care. He whined and pushed backward instinctively, wanting more. 

He got what he wanted. James pushed steadily, and the head finally slid entirely inside of him. He whimpered in pain, but the cop had already stopped and was waiting patiently. Hands stroked the cheeks of his ass and rubbed his lower back. “Breathe, Ricky,” James ordered firmly.

He did. He panted and heaved, until suddenly the pain was gone and all he felt was the fullness inside of him. The sound he’d made must have told James that the pain was gone, because he thrust and more of his dick slid into Ricky’s trembling body. Slowly, surely, evenly, James began an in-and-out motion that began to drive more and more of himself inside of Ricky. He held onto Ricky’s hips firmly, holding him in place for each thrust.

Ricky shook and clung to the back of the couch. Oh, God! Each thrust felt even better than the last. Especially when James finally slid home all of the way inside of him, and his cock rubbed over that spot. Ricky threw his head back, seeing stars, making frantic little noises in the back of his throat. He was blind, and deaf, and dumb…all he could feel was the overwhelming pleasure of being filled and fucked relentlessly. James’ pushed became faster and harder, and Ricky lost it. He grunted and squirmed and held the couch in a death grip, his mouth open and his eyes staring sightlessly ahead of him as James took him. 

His own cock was neglected, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t have touched it even if he’d wanted to. His whole body arched, and he choked as he felt something so huge that he couldn’t even encompass it rising up inside of him. James was still plowing him steadily, and Ricky made a noise full of desperate pleasure and pain as the crest rose up in him - but didn’t break. He was held on a plateau of pleasure, unable to go up or down, and he couldn’t stand it. He was going insane…  
A large hand slid around his hip and gripped his red, leaking cock. Still moving in him, James stroked Ricky’s penis just once. And Ricky heaved, and screamed breathlessly, thrashing as he succumbed to the orgasm that had been rising in him steadily. Semen jetted out of his cock and onto the couch in front of him. It went on, and on, and on, and the entire time that he was writhing and heaving and making terrible little sounds James continued to fuck him through it. 

Finally, he was done. Ricky collapsed on the couch, all of his muscles giving out, his whole body limp and wrung out. He only managed one small moan as he heard a distant groan that sounded like his name, and James finally stilled inside of him. Ricky had the distant feeling that he might be dead, but right at this moment he didn’t much care. He didn’t care when James slipped out of him, though he whimpered a bit at the loss of that wonderful fullness. And he didn’t care when strong hands turned him over and draped his sweating, naked body up against another sweating, naked form on the couch. He flopped limply against James’ hard body, and he closed his eyes as he fell into an exhausted, sated sleep…


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after

Ricky stirred and turned over. He blinked at the ceiling blankly, for a moment wondering where he was. Then the big body beside him stirred, and the arm cradling him tightened around him. Oh, that’s right. He was in James’ house, in James’ bed. He’d spent the night last night. He felt color rise in his cheeks as he remembered how he and James had spent most of yesterday and last night. His body ached and his ass felt sore, but he simply didn’t care. He also felt really good, sated and warm and happy. 

He turned his head and looked at James’ sleeping profile. So handsome! The cop’s mouth was slightly open, and he thought of all of the things that it had done to him to bring him screaming to pleasure. He had the urge to lean over and kiss those slack lips, to wake James up with a kiss, but he also felt shy so he didn’t move. The morning after his first full-on gay sexual encounters was more than a little odd for him. 

But that was okay. He also enjoyed just lying here, being held, snuggled up beside James in the big bed. He could have stayed here forever. Except that his bladder was screaming at him, telling him that he needed to empty it, and pronto. He reluctantly rolled away from James’ embrace, getting off the bed and stumbling into the small bathroom. He stood in front of the toilet and emptied his bladder, sighing in relief as the pressure subsided.

He jumped as a pair of arms suddenly slid around him. A mouth kissed the back of his neck as James rumbled: “Good morning, Ricky. Did you sleep well?”

He blushed. “Yeah,” he croaked.

A chuckle. “Did I wear you out?” James asked, his hands beginning to slide down Ricky’s torso in caressing circles.

He gasped, his head going back a little at the feel of James’ hands on him. “Yeah,” he groaned. “B-But it was…good.”

A laugh. “Good to know,” James purred. “So…Would you like to have a morning quickie before we get some breakfast?”

He moaned breathily, his hips beginning to rock as James’ hand closed over his cock and began to urge it into full erection.

“O-Okay,” he gasped, and that was the last coherent thing he said for some time after that…

 

Later, he sat gingerly on a stool in James’ kitchen as the cop made them breakfast. He stood at the stove, wearing a dark blue t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants, cooking bacon and eggs in a pan. It smelled delicious, and Ricky’s empty stomach grumbled loudly in anticipation. The ache in his ass had intensified after what had just happened in the bedroom, but he still didn’t care. He’d take the soreness. The rest of his body was relaxed and warm and still tingling from the intensity of the orgasm he’d experienced. 

He was wearing one of James’ shirts and a pair of drawstring sweats himself, although he was close to swimming in them considering the difference in their sizes. But his other clothes needed to be washed, so James had leant him something to wear while the washer and dryer ran. 

Ricky was glad that he had the day off today. He didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything. He wasn’t even sure that he’d be able to walk properly, let alone do anything more vigorous. He had hobbled into the kitchen like an old woman, a hand on his lower back. He could just imagine his co-workers’ reactions if he’d had to go into work today walking like that. Dear God, the thought of having to try to explain his painful, shuffling gait…it was too embarrassing! While he was handling being with a gay man, he wasn’t quite ready to ’out’ himself to anybody just yet. Well, except for James’ friends and family, of course. They already knew that he and James were dating.

James scooped bacon and eggs out of the pan and slid them onto a plate. He also set several pieces of buttered toast on it, and brought all of this feast to Ricky. He handed the plate to him with a kiss, saying as he pulled back: “Eat up. You need your energy.”

He colored again when he thought about just WHY he needed his energy, but obediently picked up a fork and dug in .The food was delicious. James went back to the stove to make his own breakfast, while Ricky cleaned his plate happily. 

James straddled a stool next to him and set his plate down on the bar top, picking up his fork. “How is it?” he asked, nodding at Ricky’s almost empty plate.

“It’s wonderful. Thank you,” Ricky told him.

James grinned as he scooped up some scrambled eggs with a piece of toast and bit into it. “I have to keep my man fed,” he said. 

Ricky liked the sound of that. My man. Yes, he was James’ man. It gave him a sense of belonging, something he’d never had before in his entire life. His parents certainly had given it to him; he’d been scared of his father since he’d been old enough to understand just how violent the man was, and his mother had only shown him love sporadically when she wasn’t wrapped up in her own troubles. James made Ricky feel like he had a real family at last.

He finished his food, right down to the last crumb of toast. He pushed the empty plate away, patting his full belly contentedly. James grinned and winked at him. Ricky smiled back contentedly, trying to keep in a loud burp but finally unable to anymore. But the sound only made James laugh a little, and when Ricky looked apologetic the cop only finished his mouthful of food and remarked: “Don’t worry about it, Ricky. That just tells me that you enjoyed my food. That makes me happy.”

Ricky felt warmth flow through him. He sat and watched James finish his breakfast, content with the silence in the kitchen as he admired James’ rugged, masculine beauty and the warmth in the man’s eyes whenever he glanced up at Ricky. 

When he was finally done eating, James snagged both of their plates and carried them to the sink. He rinsed them, then put them in the dishwasher. “I have to get to work at five,” he told Ricky,’ turning around. “But until then, what do you think we should do to pass the time, Ricky?”

He caught his breath. Seeing his expression, James’ lips lifted in a sexy smile. “I’m sure we’ll figure out something,” he purred.

Ricky hobbled into his house that evening, moving slowly and carefully. James had told him that they’d back off on the full-on sex for the next few days, until his body recovered a little. Not that there weren’t plenty of other things that they could do to ‘entertain’ themselves, the cop had pointed out before he’d kissed Ricky and seen him out the door of his house. 

 

Ricky wanted to groan as he shuffled down the hallway toward the living room. He just wanted to find a soft pillow and sit on it for awhile, maybe watch some TV. But before he could get there, a pounding on his front door made him start and try to whirl around. He gasped in pain, stopping his movement. A loud voice yelled through the door: “Open up, boy! I haven’t got all damn night!”

He froze in horror, his eyes wide. Oh, shit! His father was outside, pounding on his door! And he was standing here, barely able to move, because he’d spent a day and a night having gay sex with his boyfriend! Jesus, he was dead! 

“Open up!” his father screamed again. “Don’t make me break this door down, boy!”

Ricky shuffled toward the door, trying to walk normally and failing utterly. He groaned in pain, his eyes glued to the door. It was beginning to vibrate, as Roger vented his rage on the wood. “I’m coming!” he called, before finally reaching the door and opening it. His father almost fell inside, since he’d been in mid-pond when Ricky opened the door. 

A scowling Roger glared ferociously at him. “What the hell took you so long, shithead?!” he barked.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he said apologetically, cringing. He lied: “I was at the back of the house.

“Huh,” his father grunted, eyeing him suspiciously. “Your mama tried to call you yesterday, but you never answered your phone. Why not?” he growled, still eyeing his son blackly.

Ricky felt panic rush through him. He’d turned his phone off yesterday because…because he’d been with James. But he couldn’t tell his father that. He had to lie again. He wracked his brains, then began: “My phone ran out of charge, and I forgot to plug it in.”

His father casually reached out and slapped him. Ricky reeled back a little, a hand to his cheek. “From now on you better keep your phone charged, boy,” he snarled. “So your mama can get in touch with you .I don’t like it when she nags me about you. She got on my case about coming over here and telling you that you should bring this girl that you’re dating over to meet us Tuesday night.”

He felt a rising panic threatening to engulf him. “I-I can’t do that, Daddy,” he stammered. “S-She’s got to work Tuesday night.”

“Then you call your mama about what night you CAN bring her over,” his father told him. “She wants to meet this girl, so you better bring her along when you can. You got that, Ricky?”

He felt a dull, helpless despair rise up in him. “I’ll ask her, Daddy,” he said, his shoulders slumping and his head falling. He looked at the ground, not wanting to meet his father’s eyes. 

“Good. Now call your mama so that she climbs off my back, you got that?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

A smack to his head made his ears ring. He reeled a bit, as Roger strode away toward his battered old truck without a backward glance. Ricky leaned against the doorjamb as his father’s truck started with a roar and drove away. What was he supposed to do now? It wasn’t as though he could bring James along to dinner with his parents. Roger would flip out. So would his mother, for that matter. She didn’t approve of gay people either, since their preacher ranted against them constantly every Sunday. But he couldn’t produce a girl to pretend to be ‘Jamie’ on short notice, either. He’d have to tell his mother that Jamie had broken up with him, which probably wouldn’t go over well. But it would still go over better than if he told his parents the truth about the nature of the person he was dating.   
God, he hated this. Trying to conceal his life from his parents, especially from Roger’s eagle eyes, was draining and exhausting. But he had to continue to try, because if his father ever discovered the truth about his son’s love life Ricky’s life wouldn’t be worth a plug nickel.

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	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricky and James' lives are going very well...until Ricky gets the most unpleasant surprise of all one morning!

Ricky told his parents the white lie that he’d concocted when he went to dinner that week. He said that Jamie had decided that she didn’t want to be in a relationship with anybody right now; that she wanted to focus on her work instead. She just wanted to be friends with him, that was all. His father ranted about ’bitches’ , and his mother looked utterly disappointed. But neither questioned his story, which was a sad thing really, when you considered that he’d been dumped so many times by various girls that his parents didn’t bat an eye when he told them yet another one had gotten away.

He endured his father telling him that he was a giant pussy, and that he should just tell the girls he dated what to do. Girls loved that, according to Roger. Ricky nodded along stoically, and even found a faint trace of humor in the situation as he imagined trying to tell ‘Jamie’ what to do! He had to fight not to laugh in his father’s face, which would not have gone over well. 

But he was horrified when his mother mentioned again that her friend Lila’s daughter was still single, and that Ricky should come to their church on Sunday and meet her. He came up with a quick excuse about having to work, which made his father go off on a different tangent about breaking the Sabbath by working on Sundays. But he still got out of there unscathed, though he wondered for how much longer. His mother would badger his father about it, and Roger would take it out on Ricky until he did what his mother wanted. What a horrifying thought! Yet, what was the alternative? Introduce his parents to the real ‘Jamie’ and watch them lose their shit? He felt chilled to the bone when he imagined what Roger might do if he learned his son was a ‘fag’. 

He decided not to think about it right now. He was simply enjoying himself too much, being with James and working at his new job. His life had gotten so much better! Except for the looming problem of his parents, everything was awesome. He and James went out on dates or chilled at home, and each evening ended in some truly mind-blowing sex. His days were filled with his work, and he was settling into a groove. His new manager was very pleased with him, and Ricky had already gotten a small raise. The only thing that would make it even better is if he could figure out what to do about his parents.

 

He didn’t tell James about his parental troubles. He was too ashamed and embarrassed by them and the way they were. He’d come to see what awful, hate-filled people Roger and Amelia Raynes were, and how very Unchristian they were. Jesus had said to love everybody, and they couldn’t even fulfill that simple admonition. Instead, they hated everybody not like them, and were judgmental about everyone around them. 

Ricky had stopped going to his old church when he got together with James, since it was as bad as the one his parents attended. He’d looked around, and had found a nice Unitarian church that accepted everybody and was full of kind, loving people. There were even other gay couples who attended it, and they made both him and James feel welcome. 

Because, to his utter joy, his wonderful boyfriend had started coming to church with him when he wasn’t working. He’d pointed out to Ricky that this was clearly important to him, and anything that was important to Ricky was important to him, too. He’d practically melted into a pile of slush on the sidewalk when James told him that, and was hard pressed not to make out with his boyfriend out in public as a ‘thank you’ gesture. 

 

Every other week, James and Ricky hosted a little get together at James’ house for his friends. They’d become Ricky’s friends as well, and he really liked all of them. Even Freddy, now that he wasn’t scared of the man. Sure, Freddy was a little overwhelming, but was basically good at heart. He’d never objected to Ricky being with James, for example, even though Ricky had once been Ragin’ Ricky Raynes. His acceptance of their relationship meant a lot to Ricky. 

He’d certainly come a long way in only a few months! Not only had he gotten over his hatred of gays, he WAS gay! And he had a hunky, amazing boyfriend who was great in the sack! Ricky would have thought he was in Heaven on Earth, if the problem with his parents hadn’t kept interfering with his Nirvana. Because every time he talked to his mom on the phone, she wanted to know if he was dating anybody. His only relief was the fact that Lila’s horrible offspring had found some unsuspecting sap to take her off the market, so his mother wasn’t trying to push him on her anymore. But she still kept hounding him about finding someone, and he was running out of excuses to give for why he wasn’t seeing anyone. Roger’s threats were becoming nastier, because he was tired of his wife yapping at him about their son’s single status. Ricky just didn’t know what to do anymore. 

 

 

Then one day, the most horrible thing that he could ever have imagined happened. Somehow, Roger had become suspicious of him. Maybe it was because he lived on such a high level of paranoia, but whatever the case Ricky emerged from James’ house one morning(he’d taken to staying the night there almost every night now, and was thinking of selling his house and moving in with James permanently) and saw a sight that sent terror shooting through him - a battered old blue truck, familiar as his own hand, parked at the curb behind his own car. And his father, with a grim, ugly expression on his face, leaning back pseudo-casually against the side of said truck. 

Oh…Dear…God. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe…everything was going black, he was going to faint from sheer terror! His mind was gibbering as Roger straightened up and started toward him down the walkway. “Ricky,” he snarled, and Ricky trembled as his bowels and bladder threatened to give way. “What are you doin’ here, boy? I followed you here from your house last night, and I saw you go inside. I saw a guy open the door for you and let you in. You stayed the night. Tell me, boy - are you a fag? Were you taken’ it up the ass all night? Because I didn’t raise no fag, Ricky,” he continued on, his voice so cold and menacing that Ricky knew he was a dead man. 

He couldn’t say anything. Anyway, there was nothing to be said. He WAS a fag. Trying to deny it would be futile and useless. He prepared himself for what was to come, wishing that he could say goodbye to James before his father killed him. 

Seeing his expression, Roger’s lip lifted in a contemptuous smile. “I knew there was somethin’ off about you, boy, ever since you was a little kid,” he remarked almost conversationally, one of his hands balling into a fist. “Shoulda known it was that you was a faggot. And your momma was always pamperin’ you, turning you soft. I’ll deal with her after I’m done with you.”

That made Ricky straighten up and forget(mostly) his own fear. No! is father was NOT going to threaten his mother! Never again! He lifted his chin. “Yes, I’m a fag, Daddy,” he told Roger in as strong a voice as he could manage. “I have sex with another man. A man I love. And he’s a better man than you’ll ever be, even if you lived to be a thousand. I won’t let you hurt Momma again. Never again. You hear me?”

“What you gonna do to stop me, pussy?” Roger sneered. “Not that you’ll be able to anyway, by the time I’m done with you!” and he rushed at Ricky, his fist swinging. 

But he never managed to connect. A hard hand caught his swinging fist, and as a startled Ricky watched, his usually calm, cool boyfriend proceeded to deck Roger Raynes with a single uppercut to the jaw. It was such a hard punch that Ricky thought his jaw might be broken, as Roger fell backward onto the lawn and lay there, stunned. James crouched down and produced a set of handcuffs, as he spoke in a hard, cold voice: “Roger Raynes, you’re under arrest for attempted assault on a police officer.”

Roger somehow still managed to speak, even in his dazed state and with the pain in his jaw. “I din’t try…ter…ashault YOU, faggot,” he slurred. 

“I think that everybody will believe that you did, if I tell them that you did. Besides, Ricky will back me up on that, won’t you, Ricky?” he asked, looking up at his boyfriend as he none-too-gently rolled a cursing Roger over and handcuffed his hands behind his back. Ricky nodded silently, too shocked by the turn of events to speak. “Attempting to assault a police officer because he’s gay - that’s a hate crime, Roger. I’m going to see you prosecuted for it to the fullest extent of the law. I’ll make sure you get lots of jail time, and that you’ll never be able to own a firearm again. And if you EVER come near your son again, I promise you that you won’t like what happens to you,” he added ominously, as he hauled a weakly struggling Roger to his feet. “I’m taking him in and booking him, Ricky,” he added. “I’ll be back in a bit. Go inside and sit down. Make yourself some tea. Try to relax, babe. It’ll all be okay now.”

Ricky stood numbly and watched James haul his father away to his cruiser, which sat in his driveway. He thrust Roger in the back, not being gentle with him, and the last thing that Ricky saw as he backed out of the driveway was his father’s hate-contorted, swollen face peering at him through the back window. 

It was over. Ricky felt his legs go weak as this thought occurred to him. It was finally over. His father was going to be in jail, probably for a long time, and he could never hurt Ricky or his mother again. His mother…Oh, God, what would she say when he told her what happened? She might disown him…

He decided suddenly that he didn’t care. If she disowned him, so be it. He wasn’t going to give up the only happiness that he’d ever known just because of her wrong-headed religious beliefs. He hoped she might come around someday, especially if he and James decided to have kids together, because she lusted after grandchildren so much…

 

Okay, where had that thought come from? As he tottered into the house on trembling legs and threw himself down on the couch in a heap, he realized that he hadn’t given up on his dreams of a home and a family. Gay marriage was legal in every state now, and gay couples could adopt or use a surrogate mother to have children if they wanted them. While he and James hadn’t talked yet about the future, or marriage, or whether James wanted kids,  
Ricky knew that he wanted to have those talks soon. Now that his father was out or the picture, probably for a long time to come, they could make concrete plans.

And he knew, without a doubt, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with James Belmont. That he loved the cop with everything that he was. James was The One, in capital letters, and he never wanted anybody else. He was prepared to give up his old life, his family, hell, even his religion if James had wanted him to, just to be with a person he’d never imagined that he’d fall in love with a few months ago. Ricky Raynes was definitely a thoroughly reformed homophobe, and he wouldn’t want it any other way ever again.

 

The End

A/N: Well, that's all she wrote, folks! I'm so happy to have finally finished this one, which I've been working on for a long time! i hope you all enjoyed this story, because i enjoyed writing it. :) -DL


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